.veruwwcre 

o 


Lord  Frederic  Hamilton 


LIBRARY 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 


PRESENTED  BY 

ESTATE  OF 
HUBERT  ORRISS 


HERE,  THERE  AND 
EVERYWHERE 


By 

Lord  Frederic  Hamilton 

THE  DAYS  BEFORE 
YESTERDAY 

THE  VANISHED  POMPS  OE 
YESTERDAY 

HERE,  THERE  AND 
EVERYWHERE 

George  H.   Doran   Company 
New  York 


HERE,  THERE  AND 
EVERYWHERE 

BY 
LORD  FREDERIC  HAMILTON 


NEW  XSIr  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,    1921, 
BY  GEORGE   H.   DORAN   COMPANY 


PRINTED  IK  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


TO 

MY  GALLANT  CANADIAN   FRIEND 

GERALD  RUTHERFORD,  M.C. 

OF 
WINNIPEG 


FOREWORD 

So  kindly  a  reception  have  the  public  accorded  to 
"The  Days  Before  Yesterday"  that  I  have  ventured 
into  print  yet  again. 

This  is  less  a  book  of  reminiscences  than  a  re- 
capitulation of  various  personal  experiences  in  many 
lands,  some  of  which  may  be  viewed  from  un- 
accustomed angles. 

The  descriptions  in  Chapter  VIII  of  cattle-working 
and  of  horse-breaking  on  an  Argentine  estancia  have 
already  appeared  in  slightly  different  form  in  an 
earlier  book  of  mine,  now  out  of  print. 

F.  H. 

London,  1921, 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I 

PA61 

An  ideal  form  of  travel  for  the  elderly — A  claim  to  roam  at 
will  in  print — An  invitation  to  a  big-game  shoot — De- 
tails of  journey  to  Cooch  Behar — The  commercial  mag- 
nate and  the  station-master — An  outbreak  of  cholera — 
Arrival  at  Cooch  Behar  Palace — Our  Australian  Jehu 
— The  shooting  camp — Its  gigantic  scale — The  daily 
routine — "Chota  Begum,"  my  confidential  elephant — Her 
well-meant  attentions — My  first  tiger — Another  lucky 
shot — The  leopard  and  the  orchestra — The  Maharanee 
of  Cooch  Behar — An  evening  in  the  jungle — The  buns 
and  the  bear — Jungle  pictures — A  charging  rhinoceros 
— Another  rhinoceros  incident — The  amateur '  Mahouts — 
Circumstances  preventing  a  second  visit  to  Cooch  Behar  15 

CHAPTER  II 

Mighty  Kinchin janga — The  inconceivable  splendours  of  a 
Himalayan  sunrise — The  last  Indian  telegraph  office — 
The  irrepressible  British  Tommy — An  improvised  garden 
— An  improvised  Durbar  hall — A  splendid  ceremony — A 
native  dinner — The  disguised  Europeans — Our  shocking 
table-manners — Incidents — Two  impersonations ;  one  suc- 
cessful, the  other  the  reverse — I  come  off  badly — Indian 
jugglers — The  rope-trick — The  juggler,  the  rope,  and 
the  boy — An  inexplicable  incident — A  performing  cobra 
scores  a  success — Ceylon  "Devil  Dancers" — Their  per- 
formance— The  Temple  of  the  Tooth — The  uncovering  of 
the  Tooth — Details  concerning — An  abominable  libel — 
Tea  and  coffee — Peradeniya  Gardens — The  upas  tree  of 
Java  —  Colombo  an  Eastern  Clapham  Junction  —  The 
French  lady  and  the  savages — The  small  Bermudian  and 
the  inhabitants  of  England 40 

CHAPTER  III 

Frenchmen  pleasant  travelling  companions — Their  limita- 
tions— Vicomte  de  Vogue — The  innkeeper  and  the  ikon 

tx 


x  CONTENTS 

FAOB 

— An  early  oil-burning  steamer — A  modern  Bluebeard — 
His  "Blue  Chamber" — Dupleix — His  ambitious  scheme 
— A  disastrous  period  for  France — A  personal  apprecia- 
tion of  the  Emperor  Nicholas  II — A  learned  but  versatile 
Orientalist — Pidgin  English — Hong-Kong — An  ancient 
Portuguese  city  in  China — Duck  junks — A  comical 
Marathon  race — Canton — Its  fascination  and  its  appal- 
ling smells — The  malevolent  Chinese  devils — Precautions 
adopted  against  —  "Foreign  devils"  —  The  fortunate 
limitations  of  Chinese  devils — The  City  of  the  Dead — A 
business  interview 70 

CHAPTER  IV 

The  glamour  of  the  West  Indies — Captain  Marryat  and 
Michael  Scott — Deadly  climate  of  the  islands  in  the 
eighteenth  century — The  West  Indian  planters — Differ- 
ence between  East  and  West  Indies — "Let  us  eat  and 
drink,  for  to-morrow  we  die" — Training-school  for  Brit- 
ish Navy  —  A  fruitless  voyage  —  Quarantine  —  Distant 
view  of  Barbados — Father  Labat — The  last  of  the 
Emperors  of  Byzantium — Delightful  little  Lady  Nugent 
and  her  diary  of  1802 — Her  impressions  of  Jamaica — 
Wealthy  planters  —  Their  hideous  gormandising  —  A 
simple  morning  meal — An  aldermanic  dinner — How  the 
little  Nugents  were  gorged — Haiti — Attempts  of  Gen- 
eral Le  Clerc  to  secure  British  intervention  in  Haiti — 
Presents  to  Lady  Nugent — Her  Paris  dresses  described 
— Our  arrival  in  Jamaica — Its  marvellous  beauty — The 
bewildered  Guardsman — Little  trace  of  Spain  left  in 
Jamaica — The  Spaniards  as  builders — British  and  Span- 
ish Colonial  methods  contrasted 102 

CHAPTER  V 

An  election  meeting  in  Jamaica — Two  family  experiences  at 
contested  elections — Novel  South  African  methods — 
Unattractive  Kingston — A  driving  tour  through  the 
island  —  The  Guardsman  as  orchid-hunter  —  Derelict 
country  houses — An  attempt  to  reconstruct  the  past — 
The  Fourth-Form  room  at  Harrow — Elizabethan  Harro- 
vians— I  meet  many  friends  of  my  youth — The  "Sunday" 
books  of  the  'sixties — "Black  and  White" — Arrival  of 
the  French  fleet  —  Its  inner  meaning  —  International 
courtesies  —  A  delicate  attention  —  Absent  alligators  — 


CONTENTS  xi 

pie* 

The  mangrove  swamp — A  preposterous  suggestion — The 
swamps  do  their  work — Fever — A  very  gallant  ap- 
prentice— What  he  did 131 

CHAPTER  VI 

The  Spanish  Main — Its  real  meaning — A  detestable  region 
— Tarpon  and  sharks — The  isthmus — The  story  of  the 
great  pearl  "La  elegrina" — The  Irishman  and  the 
Peruvian — The  vagaries  of  the  Southern  Cross — The 
great  Kingston  earthquake — Point  of  view  of  small  boys 
— Some  earthquake  incidents — "Flesh-coloured"  stock- 
ings— Negro  hysteria — A  family  incident,  and  the  un- 
fortunate Archbishop — Port  Royal — A  sugar  estate — A 
scene  from  a  boy's  book  in  real  life — Cocoa-nuts — Reef- 
fishing — Two  young  men  of  great  promise  .  .  .  .160 

CHAPTER  VII 

Appalling  ignorance  of  geography  amongst  English  people 
— Novel  pedagogic  methods — "Happy  Families" — An 
instructive  game — Bermuda — A  waterless  island — A  most 
inviting  archipelago — Bermuda  the  most  northern  coral- 
atoll — The  reefs  and  their  polychrome  fish — A  "water- 
glass" — Sea-gardens — An  ideal  sailing-place — How  the 
Guardsman  won  his  race — A  miniature  Parliament — 
Unfounded  aspersions  on  the  Bermudians — Red  and 
blue  birds — Two  pardonable  mistakes — Soldier  garden- 
ers— Officers'  wives — The  little  roaming  home-makers — 
A  pleasant  island — The  inquisitive  German  naval  offi- 
cers— "The  Song  of  the  Bermudians" 191 

CHAPTER  VIII 

The  demerits  of  the  West  Indies  classified — The  utter  ruin 
of  St.  Pierre — The  Empress  Josephine — A  transplanted 
brogue — Vampires — Lost  in  a  virgin  forest — Dictator- 
Presidents,  Castro  and  Rosas — The  mentality  of  a  South 
American — "The  Liberator" — The  Basques  and  their 
national  game — Love  of  English  people  for  foreign 
words — Yellow  fever — Life  on  an  Argentina  estancia — 
How  cattle  are  worked- ^The  lasso  and  the  "bolas" — 
Ostriches — Venomous  toads — The  youthful  rough-rider 
— His  methods — Fuel  difficulties — The  vast  plains — The 
wonderful  bird-life  .  220 


xii  CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  IX 

MM 

Difficulties  of  an  Argentine  railway  engineer — Why  Argen- 
tina has  the  Irish  gauge — A  sudden  contrast — A  more 
violent  contrast  —  Names  and  their  obligations  —  Cape 
Town — The  thoroughness  of  the  Dutch  pioneers — A  dry 
and  thirsty  land — The  beautiful  Dutch  Colonial  houses 
— The  Huguenot  refugees — The  Rhodes  fruit-farms — 
Surf-riding  —  Groote  Schuur  —  General  Botha  —  The 
Rhodes  Memorial — The  episode  of  the  sick  boy — A  visit 
from  Father  Neptune — What  pluck  will  do  .  .  .  .251 

CHAPTER  X 

In  France  at  the  outbreak  of  the  war — The  tocsin — The 
"voice  of  the  bell"  at  Harrow — Canon  Simpson's  theory 
about  bells  —  His  "five-tone"  principle  —  Myself  as  a 
London  policeman  —  Experiences  with  a  celebrated 
Church  choir — The  "Grill-room  Club" — Famous  mem- 
bers —  Arthur  Cecil  —  Some  neat  answers  —  Sir  Leslie 
Ward — Beerbohm  Tree  and  the  vain  old  member — 
Amateur  supers — Juvenile  disillusionment — The  Knight 
— The  Baron — Age  of  romance  passed 282 

CHAPTER  XI 

Dislike  of  the  elderly  to  change — Some  legitimate  grounds 
of  complaint — Modern  pronunciation  of  Latin — How  a 
European  crisis  was  averted  by  the  old-fashioned 
method  —  Lord  Dufferin's  Latin  speech  —  Schoolboy 
costume  of  a  hundred  years  ago — Discomforts  of  travel 
in  my  youth — A  crack  liner  of  the  'eighties — Old 
travelling  carriages  —  An  election  incident  —  Headlong 
rush  of  extraordinary  turn-out — The  politically-minded 
signalman  and  the  doubtful  voter — "Decent  bodies" — 
Confidence  in  the  future — Conclusion 308 

INDEX      .     *     .     *      .     •     •     ...     .      •      .      •      •      .      .  625 


HERE,  THERE  AND 
EVERYWHERE 


HERE,  THERE  AND 
EVERYWHERE 


CHAPTER  I 

An  ideal  form  of  travel  for  the  elderly — A  claim  to  roam  at 
will  in  print — An  invitation  to  a  big-game  shoot — Details 
of  journey  to  Cooch  Behar — The  commercial  magnate  and 
the  station-master — An  outbreak  of  cholera — Arrival  at 
Cooch  Behar  Palace — Our  Australian  Jehu — The  Shooting 
Camp — Its  gigantic  scale — The  daily  routine — "Chota 
Begum,"  my  confidential  elephant — Her  well-meant  atten- 
tions— My  first  tiger — Another  lucky  shot — The  leopard  and 
the  orchestra — The  Maharanee  of  Cooch  Behar — An  evening 
in  the  jungle — The  buns  and  the  bear — Jungle  pictures — A 
charging  rhinoceros — Another  rhinoceros  incident — The 
amateur  mahouts — Circumstances  preventing  a  second  visit 
to  Cooch  Behar. 

THE  drawbacks  of  advancing  years  are  so  painfully 
obvious  to  those  who  have  to  shoulder  the  burden 
of  a  long  tale  of  summers,  that  there  is  no  need  to 
enlarge  upon  them. 

The  elderly  have  one  compensation,  however ;  they 
have  well-filled  store-houses  of  reminiscences,  chests 
of  memories  which  are  the  resting-place  of  so  many 
recollections  that  their  owner  can  at  will  re-travel  in 
one  second  as  much  of  the  surface  of  this  globe  as  it 
hds  been  his  good  fortune  to  visit,  and  this,  too,  under 
the  most  comfortable  conditions  imaginable. 

Not  for  him  the  rattle  of  the  wheels  of  the  train  as 

15 


16  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

they  grind  the  interminable  miles  away;  not  for  him 
the  insistent  thump  of  the  engines  as  they  relentlessly 
drive  the  great  liner  through  angry  Atlantic  surges 
to  her  far-off  destination  in  smiling  Southern  seas. 
The  muffled  echoes  of  London  traffic,  filtering  through 
the  drawn  curtains,  are  undisturbed  by  such  grossly 
material  reminders  of  modern  engineering  triumphs, 
for  the  elderly  traveller  journeys  in  a  comfortable 
easy-chair  before  a  glowing  fire,  a  cigar  in  his  mouth, 
and  a  long  tumbler  conveniently  accessible  to  his 
hand. 

The  street  outside  is  shrouded  in  November  fog; 
under  the  steady  drizzle,  the  dripping  pavements  re- 
flect with  clammy  insistence  the  flickering  gas-lamps, 
and  everything,  as  Mr.  Mantalini  would  have  put  it, 
"is  demnition  moist  and  unpleasant,"  whilst  a  few 
feet  away,  a  grey-haired  traveller  is  basking  in  the 
hot  sunshine  of  a  white  coral  strand,  with  the  cocoa- 
nut  palms  overhead  whispering  their  endless  secrets 
to  each  other  as  they  toss  their  emerald-green  fronds 
in  the  strong  Trade  winds,  the  little  blue  wavelets  of 
the  Caribbean  Sea  lap-lapping  as  they  pretend  to 
break  on  the  gleaming  milk-white  beach. 

It  is  really  an  ideal  form  of  travel!  No  discom- 
forts, no  hurryings  to  catch  connections,  no  passports 
required,  no  passage  money,  and  no  hotel  bills !  What 
more  could  any  one  ask?  The  journeys  can  be  varied 
indefinitely,  provided  that  the  owner  of  the  store- 
house has  been  careful  to  keep  its  shelves  tidily  ar- 
ranged. India?  The  second  shelf  on  the  left.  South 
Africa?  The  one  immediately  below  it.  Canada? 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE   17 

South  America?  The  West  Indies?  There  they  all 
are,  each  one  in  its  proper  place! 

This  private  Thomas  Cook  &  Son's  office  has  the 
further  advantage  of  being  eminently  portable. 
Wherever  its  owner  goes,  it  goes,  too.  For  the  elderly 
this  seems  the  most  practical  form  of  Travel  Bureau, 
and  it  is  incontestably  the  most  economical  one  in 
these  days  when  prices  soar  sky-high. 

There  is  so  much  to  see  in  this  world  of  ours,  and 
just  one  short  lifetime  in  which  to  see  it!  I  am  fully 
conscious  of  the  difficulty  of  conveying  to  others  im- 
pressions which  remain  intensely  vivid  to  myself,  and 
am  also  acutely  alive  to  the  fact  that  matters  which 
appear  most  interesting  to  one  person,  drive  others  to 
martyrdoms  of  boredom. 

In  attempting  to  reproduce  various  personal  ex- 
periences on  paper,  I  shall  claim  the  roaming  free- 
dom of  the  fireside  muser,  for  he  can  in  one  second 
skip  from  Continent  to  Continent  and  vault  over  gaps 
of  thirty  years  and  more,  just  as  the  spirit  moves  him; 
indeed,  to  change  the  metaphor,  before  one  record  has 
played  itself  out,  he  can  turn  on  a  totally  different 
one  without  rising  from  his  chair,  adjusting  a  new 
needle,  or  troubling  to  re-wind  the  machine,  for  this 
convenient  mental  apparatus  reproduces  automati- 
cally from  its  repertory  whatever  air  is  required. 

Having  claimed  the  privilege  of  roaming  at  will  far 
from  my  subject,  I  may  say  that  ever  since  my  boy- 
hood I  had  longed  to  take  part  in  a  big-game  shoot, 
so  when  the  late  Maharajah  of  Cooch  Behar  invited 
me  in  1891  to  one  of  his  famous  shooting-parties,  I  ac- 


18  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

cepted  with  alacrity,  for  the  Cooch  Behar  shoots  were 
justly  famed  throughout  India.  The  rhinoceros  was 
found  there,  tigers,  as  Mrs.  O'Dowd  of  Vanity  Fair 
would  have  remarked,  "were  as  plentiful  as  cab- 
bages" ;  there  were  bears,  too,  leopards  and  water  buf- 
faloes, everything,  in  short,  that  the  heart  of  man 
could  desire.  It  was  no  invitation  to  travel  five  hun- 
dred miles  for  two  days'  shooting  only,  there  were  to 
be  five  solid  weeks  of  it  in  camp,  and  few  people  en- 
tertained on  so  princely  a  scale  as  the  Maharajah.  It 
was  distinctly  an  invitation  to  be  treasured — and 
gratefully  accepted. 

The  five-hundred-mile  journey  between  Calcutta 
and  Cooch  Behar  was  unquestionably  a  varied  one. 
There  were  four  hours'  train  on  the  broad-gauge  rail- 
way, an  hour's  steamer  to  cross  the  Ganges,  ten  hours' 
train  on  a  narrow-gauge  railway,  three  hours'  propel- 
ling by  poles  in  a  native  house-boat  down  a  branch  of 
the  Brahmaputra,  six  miles  of  swamp  to  traverse  on 
elephants,  thirty  miles  to  travel  on  the  Maharajah's 
private  two-and-a-half -feet-gauge  toy  railway,  and, 
to  conclude  with,  a  twenty-five-mile  drive. 

Cooch  Behar  is  now,  I  believe,  directly  linked  up 
with  Calcutta  by  rail. 

We  left  Calcutta  a  party  of  four.  My  nephew, 
General  Sir  Henry  Streatfeild,  and  his  wife,  another 
of  the  Viceroy's  aides-de-camp,  myself,  and  a  certain 
genial  Calcutta  business  magnate,  most  popular  of 
Anglo-Indians.  As  we  had  a  connection  to  catch  at 
a  junction  on  the  narrow-gauge  railway,  an  intermin- 
able wait  at  a  big  station  in  the  early  morning  was 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  19 

disconcerting,  for  the  connection  would  probably  be 
missed.  The  jovial,  burly  Englishman  occupied  the 
second  sleeping-berth  in  my  compartment.  As  the 
delay  lengthened,  he,  having  some  official  connection 
with  the  East  Bengal  State  Railway,  jumped  out  of 
bed  and  went  on  to  the  platform  in  Anglo-Indian 
fashion,  clad  merely  in  pyjamas  and  slippers.  Ap- 
proaching the  immensely  pompous  native  station- 
master  he  upbraided  him  in  no  measured  terms  for  the 
long  halt.  Through  the  window  I  could  hear  every 
word  of  their  dialogue.  "This  delay  is  perfectly  scan- 
dalous, station-master.  I  shall  certainly  report  it  in 
Calcutta."  "Would  you  care,  sir,  to  enter  offeecial 
complaint  in  book  kept  for  that  purpose  ?'1  "By 
George!  I  will!"  answered  the  man  of  jute  and  in- 
digo, hot  with  indignation.  He  was  conducted 
through  long  passages  to  the  station-master's  office  at 
the  back  of  the  building,  where  a  strongly  worded 
complaint  was  entered  in  the  book.  "And  now,  may  I 
ask,"  questioned  the  irate  business  man,  "when  you 
mean  to  start  this  infernal  train  ?"  "Oh,  the  terain,  sir, 
has  already  deeparted  these  fiv«  minutes,"  answered 
the  bland  native.  Fortunately  there  was  a  goods  train 
immediately  following  the  mail,  and  some  four  hours 
afterwards  our  big  friend  alighted  from  a  goods  brake- 
van  in  a  furious  temper.  He  had  had  nothing  what- 
ever to  eat,  and  was  still  in  pyjamas,  bare  feet  and 
slippers  at  ten  in  the  morning.  We  had  delayed  the 
branch  train  as  no  one  seemed  in  any  particular  hurry, 
so  all  was  well. 

During  a  subsequent  journey  over  the  same  line, 


20  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

we  had  an  awful  experience.  Through  the  Alipore 
suburb  of  Calcutta  there  runs  a  little  affluent  of  the 
Hooghly  known  as  Tolly  Gunge.  For  some  reason 
this  insignificant  stream  is  regarded  as  peculiarly  sa- 
cred by  Hindoos,  and  every  five  years  vast  numbers 
of  pilgrims  come  to  bathe  in  and  drink  Tolly  Gunge. 
The  stream  is  nothing  now  but  an  open  sewer,  but  no 
warnings  of  the  doctors,  and  no  Government  edicts 
can  prevent  natives  from  regarding  this  as  a  place  of 
pilgrimage,  rank  poison  though  the  waters  of  Tolly 
Gunge  must  be. 

A  party  of  us  left  Calcutta  on  a  shooting  expedi- 
tion during  one  of  these  quinquennial  pilgrimages. 
We  found  the  huge  Sealdah  station  packed  with 
dense  crowds  of  home-going  pilgrims.  The  station- 
master  was  at  his  wits'  end  to  provide  accommodation, 
for  every  third-class  carriage  was  already  full  to  over- 
flowing, and  still  endless  hordes  of  devotees  kept  ar- 
riving. He  finally  had  a  number  of  covered  trucks 
coupled  on  to  the  train,  into  which  the  pilgrims  were 
wedged  as  tightly  as  possible,  a  second  engine  was 
attached,  and  we  started.  Next  morning  I  was  awak- 
ened by  a  nephew  of  mine,  who  cried  with  an  awe- 
struck face,  "My  God!  It  is  perfectly  awful!  Look 
out  of  the  window!"  It  was  a  fearful  sight.  The 
waters  of  Tolly  Gunge  had  done  their  work,  and  chol- 
era had  broken  out  during  the  night  amongst  the 
densely  packed  pilgrims.  Men  were  carrying  out 
dead  bodies  from  the  train ;  there  were  already  at  least 
fifty  corpses  laid  on  the  platform,  and  the  tale  of  dead 
increased  every  minute.  Others,  stricken  with  the  fell 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  21 

disease,  were  lying  on  the  platform,  still  alive,  but  in 
a  state  of  collapse,  or  in  the  agonising  cramps  of  this 
swift-slaying  scourge.  There  happened  to  be  two 
white  doctors  in  the  train,  who  did  all  that  was  pos- 
sible for  the  sufferers,  but,  beyond  the  administration 
of  opium,  medical  science  is  powerless  in  cholera  cases. 
The  horrors  of  that  railway  platform  fixed  themselves 
indelibly  on  my  memory.  I  can  never  forget  it. 

The  late  Maharajah  of  Cooch  Behar  had  had  a  long 
minority,  the  soil  of  his  principality  was  very  fertile 
and  well-cultivated,  and  so  efficiently  was  the  little 
State  administered  by  the  British  Resident  that  the 
Maharajah  found  himself  at  his  majority  the  for- 
tunate possessor  of  vast  sums  of  ready  money.  The 
Government  of  India  had  erected  him  out  of  his  sur- 
plus revenues  a  gigantic  palace  of  red-brick,  a  singu- 
larly infelicitous  building  material  for  that  burning 
climate.  Nor  can  it  be  said  that  the  English  architect 
had  been  very  successful  in  his  elevation.  He  had  ap- 
parently anticipated  the  design  of  the  Victoria  and 
Albert  Museum,  and  had  managed  to  produce  a  build- 
ing even  less  satisfactory  to  the  eye  than  the  vast  pile 
at  the  corner  of  Cromwell  Road.  He  had  also 
crowned  his  edifice  with  a  great  dome.  The  one  prac- 
tical feature  of  the  building  was  that  it  was  only  one 
room  thick,  and  that  every  room  was  protected  by  a 
broad  double  verandah  on  both  sides.  The  direct  rays 
of  the  sun  were,  therefore,  powerless  to  penetrate  to 
the  interior,  and  with  the  double  verandahs  the  faint- 
est breath  of  air  sent  a  draught  through  every  room 
in  the  house. 


22  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

We  reached  Cooch  Behar  after  dark,  and  it  was 
somewhat  of  a  surprise  to  find  the  Maharajah  and  his 
entire  family  roller-skating  in  the  great  central  domed 
hall  of  the  palace,  to  the  strains  of  a  really  excellent 
string  band.  The  Maharajah  having  a  great  liking 
for  Europea  anisic,  had  a  private  orchestra  of 
thirty-five  natives  who,  under  the  skilled  tuition  of 
a  Viennese  conductor,  had  learnt  to  play  with  all  the 
fire  and  vim  of  one  of  those  unapproachable  Austrian 
bands,  which  were  formerly  (I  emphasise  the  were) 
the  delight  of  every  foreigner  in  Vienna.  These  na- 
tive players  had  acquired  in  playing  dance  music  the 
real  Austrian  "broken  time,"  and  could  make  their 
violins  wail  out  the  characteristic  "thirds"  and  "sixths" 
in  the  harmonies  of  little  airy,  light  "Wiener  Coup- 
lets" nearly  as  effectively  as  Johann  Strauss'  famous 
orchestra  in  the  "Volks-Garten"  in  Vienna. 

The  whole  scene  was  rather  unexpected  in  the  home 
of  a  native  prince  in  the  wilds  of  East  Bengal. 

The  Maharajah  had  fixed  on  a  great  tract  of  jungle 
in  Assam,  over  the  frontier  of  India  proper,  as  the 
field  of  operations  for  his  big-game  shoot  of  1891,  on 
account  of  the  rhinoceros  and  buffaloes  that  fre- 
quented the  swamps  there.  As  he  did  not  do  things 
by  halves,  he  had  had  a  rough  road  made  connecting 
Cooch  Behar  with  his  great  camp,  and  had  caused 
temporary  bridges  to  be  built  over  all  the  streams  on 
the  way.  Owing  to  the  convenient  bamboo,  this  is 
fairly  easy  of  achievement,  for  the  bamboo  is  at  the 
same  time  tough  and  pliable,  and  bamboo  bridges,  in 
spite  of  their  flimsy  appearance,  can  carry  great 


HERE,  THEKE  AND  EVERYWHERE  23 

weights,  and  can  be  run  up  in  no  time,  and  kindly  Na- 
ture furnishes  in  Bengal  an  endless  supply  of  this 
adaptable  building  material. 

Our  Calcutta  party  were  driven  out  to  the  camp  by 
the  Maharajah's  Australian  trainer  in  a  brake-and- 
four.  I  had  heard  before  of  the  recklessness  and  skill 
of  Australian  stage-coach  drivers,  but  had  had  no 
previous  personal  experience  of  it.  Frankly,  it  is  not 
an  experience  I  should  care  to  repeat  indefinitely. 
I  have  my  own  suspicions  that  that  big  Australian 
was  trying,  if  I  may  be  pardoned  a  vulgarism,  "to 
put  the  wind  up  us."  Bang!  against  a  tree-trunk  on 
the  off-side.  Crash!  against  another  on  the  near-side; 
down  a  steep  hill  at  full  gallop,  and  over  a  creaking, 
swaying,  loudly  protesting  bamboo  bridge  that  seemed 
bound  to  collapse  under  the  impact;  up  the  corre- 
sponding ascent  as  hard  as  the  four  Walers  could  lay 
leg  to  the  ground;  off  the  track,  tearing  through  the 
scrub  on  two  wheels,  righting  again  to  shave  a  big 
tree  by  a  mere  hair's-breadth ;  it  certainly  was  a  fine 
exhibition  of  nerve  and  of  recklessness  redeemed  by 
skill,  but  I  do  not  think  that  elderly  ladies  would 
have  preferred  it  to  their  customary  jog-trot  behind 
two  fat  and  confidential  old  slugs.  One  wondered 
how  the  harness  held  together  under  our  Australian 
Jehu's  vagaries. 

The  Maharajah  had  chosen  the  site  of  his  camp 
well.  On  a  bare  maidan  overhanging  a  turbulent 
river  a  veritable  city  of  white  tents  gleamed  in  the 
sunshine,  all  neatly  ranged  in  streets  and  lanes.  The 
river  was  not,  as  most  Indian  rivers  in  the  dry  season, 


24  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

a  mere  trickle  of  muddy  water  meandering  through 
a  broad  expanse  of  stones  and  sand-spits,  but  a  clear, 
rushing  stream,  tumbling  and  laughing  on  its  way  as 
gaily  as  any  Scotch  salmon  river,  and  forming  deep 
pools  where  great  mahseer  lurked  under  the  waving 
fringes  of  water-weeds,  fat  fish  who  could  be  en- 
trapped with  a  spoon  in  the  early  morning. 

Each  guest  had  a  great  Indian  double  tent,  bigger 
than  most  London  drawing-rooms.  The  one  tent  was 
pitched  inside  the  other  after  the  fashion  of  the  coun- 
try, with  an  air-space  of  about  one  foot  between  to 
keep  out  the  fierce  sun.  Indeed,  triple-tent  would 
be  a  more  fitting  expression,  for  the  inner  tent  had 
a  lining  dependent  from  it  of  that  Indian  cotton  fab- 
ric printed  in  reds  and  blues  which  we  use  for  bed 
quilts.  Every  tent  was  carpeted  with  cotton  dhurees, 
and  completely  furnished  with  dressing-tables  and 
chests  of  drawers,  as  well  as  writing-table,  sofa  and 
arm-chairs;  whilst  there  was  a  little  covered  canvas 
porch  outside,  fitted  with  chairs  in  which  to  take  the 
air,  and  a  small  attendant  satellite  of  a  tent  served 
as  a  bath-room,  with  big  tin  tub  and  a  little  trench 
dug  to  carry  the  water  away.  Nothing  could  be  more 
complete,  but  I  found  my  watchful  old  "bearer"  al- 
ready at  work  raising  all  my  trunks,  gun-cases,  and 
other  possessions  on  little  stilts  of  bamboo,  for  his 
quick  eye  had  detected  signs  of  white  ants.  By  the 
end  of  our  stay  in  camp  I  had  reason  to  congratulate 
myself  on  my  faithful  "bearer's"  foresight,  for  none 
of  my  own  things  were  touched,  whilst  every  one  else 
was  bemoaning  the  havoc  the  white  ants  had  played 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  25 

with  their  belongings.  The  guest-tents  formed  three 
sides  of  a  square  facing  the  river,  and  in  the  centre 
of  the  open  space  stood  a  large  shamyanah,  or  flat- 
roofed  tent  with  open  sides,  which  served  as  dining- 
room  and  general  living-room.  There  are  certainly 
distinct  advantages  in  a  climate  so  settled  that  periods 
of  daily  sunshine  or  of  daily  rain  really  form  part  of 
the  calendar,  and  can  be  predicted  with  mathematical 
certainty. 

It  so  happened  that  the  Census  of  1891  was  taken 
whilst  we  were  in  camp,  so  I  can  give  the  exact  num- 
ber of  retainers  whom  the  Maharajah  brought  with 
him.  It  totalled  473,  including  mahouts  and  elephant- 
tenders,  grooms,  armourers,  taxidermists,  tailors, 
shoemakers,  a  native  doctor  and  a  dispenser,  and  boat- 
men, not  to  mention  the  Viennese  conductor  and  the 
thirty-five  members  of  the  orchestra,  cooks,  bakers, 
and  table-waiters.  The  Maharajah  certainly  did 
things  on  a  grand  scale.  One  of  the  English  guests 
gave,  with  perfect  truth,  his  place  of  birth  as  required 
in  the  Indian  Census  Return  as  "a  first-class  carriage 
on  the  London  and  North- Western  Railway,  some- 
where between  Bletchley  and  Euston ;  the  precise  spot 
being  unnoticed  either  by  myself  or  the  other  person 
principally  concerned." 

The  daily  routine  of  life  in  the  camp  was  some- 
thing like  this:  We  men  all  rose  at  daybreak,  some 
going  for  a  ride,  others  endeavouring  with  a  spoon  to 
lure  the  cunning  mahseer  in  the  swift-running  river, 
or  going  for  a  three-mile  walk  through  the  jungle 
tracks.  Then  a  bath,  and  breakfast  followed  at  nine, 


26  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

when  the  various  shikaries  came  in  with  their  reports. 
Should  a  tiger  have  made  a  "kill,"  he  would  be  found, 
with  any  luck,  during  the  heat  of  the  day  close  to  the 
body  of  his  victim.  The  "howdah'"  elephants  would 
all  be  sent  on  to  the  appointed  rendezvous,  the  entire 
party  going  out  to  meet  them  on  "pad"  elephants. 
I  do  not  believe  that  more  uncomfortable  means  of 
progression  could  possibly  be  devised.  A  pad  ele- 
phant has  a  large  mattress  strapped  on  to  its  back, 
over  which  runs  a  network  of  stout  cords.  Four  or 
five  people  half -sit,  half -recline  on  this  mattress,  hang- 
ing on  for  dear  life  to  the  cord  network.  The  Euro- 
pean, being  unused  to  this  attitude,  will  soon  feel 
violent  cramps  shooting  through  his  limbs,  added  to 
which  there  is  a  disconcerting  feeling  of  instability  in 
spite  of  the  tightly  grasped  cords.  Nothing,  on  the 
other  hand,  can  be  more  comfortable  than  a  well- 
appointed  howdah,  where  one  is  quite  alone  except 
for  the  mahout  perched  on  the  elephant's  neck.  The 
Maharajah's  howdahs  were  all  of  cane-work,  with  a 
softly  padded  seat  and  a  leather-strap  back,  which 
yielded  to  the  motion  of  the  great  beast.  In  front 
was  a  gun-rack  holding  five  guns  and  rifles,  and  large 
pockets  at  the  side  thoughtfully  contained  bottles  of 
lemonade  (the  openers  of  which  were  never  forgot- 
ten) and  emergency  packets  of  biscuits. 

The  Maharajah  owned  about  sixty  elephants,  in 
which  he  took  the  greatest  pride,  and  he  was  most 
careful  in  providing  his  guests  with  proved  "tiger- 
staunch"  animals.  These  were  oddly  enough  invari- 
ably lady-elephants,  the  males  being  apt  to  lose  their 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  27 

heads  in  the  excitement  of  meeting  their  hereditary 
enemies,  and  consequently  apt  to  run  amok. 

My  particular  elephant,  which  I  rode  daily  for  five 
weeks,  was  an  elderly  and  highly  respectable  female 
named  "Chota  Begum."  Had  she  only  happened  to 
have  been  born  without  a  tail,  and  with  two  legs  in- 
stead of  four,  she  would  have  worn  silver-rimmed 
spectacles  and  a  large  cap  with  cherries  in  it;  would 
have  knitted  stockings  all  day  long  and  have  taken 
a  deep  interest  in  the  Church  Missionary  Society. 

I  soon  got  on  very  friendly  terms  with  "Chota 
Begum."  She  was  inordinately  fond  of  oranges, 
which,  of  course,  were  difficult  to  procure  in  the  jun- 
gle, so  I  daily  brought  her  a  present  of  half-a-dozen 
of  these  delicacies,  supplementing  the  gift  at  luncheon- 
time  with  a  few  bananas.  Chota  Begum  was  deeply 
touched  by  these  attentions,  and  one  morning  my  ma- 
hout informed  me  that  she  wished,  out  of  gratitude,  to 
lift  me  into  the  howdah  with  her  trunk.  I  cannot 
conceive  how  he  found  this  out,  but  I  naturally  was 
averse  to  wounding  the  elephant's  feelings  by  refus- 
ing the  proffered  courtesy,  though  I  should  infinitely 
have  preferred  getting  into  the  howdah  in  the  ordi- 
nary manner.  The  mahout,  after  the  mysterious  man- 
ner of  his  kind,  was  giving  his  charge  minute  direc- 
tions to  be  very  careful  with  me,  when  I  suddenly 
felt  myself  seized  by  Chota  Begum's  trunk,  lifted  into 
the  air,  and  held  upside  down  at  the  extreme  length 
of  that  member,  for,  it  seemed  to  me,  at  least  five 
minutes.  Rupees  and  small  change  rained  from  my 
pockets  to  the  ground,  cigar  case,  cigarette  case, 


28  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

matches  and  cartridge  extractor  streamed  down  to 
earth  in  clattering  showers  from  their  abiding  places ; 
the  blood  rushed  to  my  head  till  I  was  on  the  very 
verge  of  apoplexy,  and  still  Chota  Begum,  remem- 
bering her  instructions  to  be  careful,  held  me  up 
aloft,  until  slowly,  very  slowly  indeed,  she  lowered 
me  into  the  howdah,  dizzy  and  stupid  with  blood  to 
the  head.  The  attention  was  well-meant,  but  it  was 
distinctly  not  one  to  be  repeated  indefinitely.  In 
my  youth  there  was  a  popular  song  recounting  the 
misfortunes  of  one  Mr.  Brown : 

"Old  man  Brown,  upside  down, 
With  his  legs  sticking  up  in  the  air" ; 

but  I  never  imagined  that  I  should  share  his  unpleas- 
ant experiences. 

I  never  enquired  too  minutely  as  to  how  the  "kub- 
ber"  of  the  whereabouts  of  a  tiger  was  obtained,  but 
I  have  a  strong  suspicion  that  unhappy  goats  played 
a  part  in  it,  and  that  they  were  tethered  in  different 
parts  of  the  jungle,  for,  as  we  all  know,  "the  bleat- 
ing of  the  kid  excites  the  tiger." 

A  tiger  being  thus  located  by  his  "kill,"  the  long 
line  of  beating  elephants,  riderless  except  for  their 
mahouts,  goes  crashing  through  the  burnt-up  jungle- 
growth,  until  a  trumpeting  from  one  of  the  elephants 
announces  the  neighbourhood  of  "stripes,"  for  an  ele- 
phant has  an  abnormally  keen  sense  of  smell.  The 
various  guns  are  posted  on  their  elephants  in  any  open 
spot  where  a  good  view  of  the  beast  can  be  obtained 
when  he  breaks  cover.  I  have  explained  elsewhere 
how  I  personally  always  preferred  an  ordinary  shot- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  29 

gun  loaded  with  a  lead  ball,  to  a  rifle  for  either  tigers 
or  bears.  The  reason  being  that  both  these  animals 
are  usually  shot  at  very  close  quarters  whilst  they 
are  moving  rapidly.  Time  is  lost  in  getting  the  sights 
of  a  rifle  on  to  a  swift-moving  objective,  and  there 
is  so  little  time  to  lose,  for  it  is  most  inadvisable  to 
wound  a  tiger  without  killing  him;  whereas  with  a 
shot-gun  one  simply  raises  it,  looks  down  the  barrels 
and  fires  as  one  would  do  at  a  rabbit,  and  a  solid  lead 
bullet  has  enormous  stopping  power.  I  took  with 
me  daily  in  the  howdah  one  shot-gun  loaded  with  ball, 
another  with  No.  5  shot  for  birds,  an  Express  rifle, 
and  one  of  the  Maharajah's  terrific  4-bore  elephant- 
rifles;  this  latter's  charge  was  14%  drachms  of  black 
powder ;  the  kick  seemed  to  break  every  bone  in  one's 
shoulder,  and  I  was  frightened  to  death  every  time 
that  I  fired  it  off. 

On  that  Assam  shoot  I  was  quite  extraordinarily 
lucky,  for  on  the  very  first  day  the  beating  elephants 
announced  the  presence  of  a  tiger  by  trumpeting 
almost  at  once,  and  suddenly,  with  a  roar,  a  great 
streak  of  orange  and  black  leaped  into  the  sunlight 
from  the  jungle  straight  in  front  of  me.  The  tiger 
came  straight  for  my  elephant,  who  stood  firm  as  a 
rock,  and  I  waited  with  the  smooth-bore  till  he  got 
within  twenty  feet  of  me  and  I  knew  that  I  could  not 
possibly  miss  him,  and  then  fired  at  his  shoulder.  The 
tiger  fell  dead.  This  was  a  very  easy  shot,  but  it  did 
me  great  service  with  my  mahout.  These  men,  perched 
as  they  are  on  the  elephant's  neck,  carry  their  lives 
in  their  hand,  for  should  the  tiger  be  wounded  only, 


30  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

he  will  certainly  make  a  spring  for  the  elephant's 
head,  and  then  the  mahout  is  a  dead  man.  Incidentally 
the  "gun"  in  the  howdah  will  not  fare  much  better 
in  that  case.  The  mahout,  should  he  have  but  small 
confidence  in  his  passenger's  marksmanship,  will  make 
the  elephant  fidget  so  that  it  becomes  impossible  to  fire. 

Two  days  later  we  were  beating  a  patch  of  jungle, 
when,  through  the  thick  undergrowth,  I  could  just 
see  four  legs,  moving  very,  very  slowly  amongst  the 
reeds,  the  body  above  them  being  invisible.  "Bagh" 
(tiger) ,  whispered  the  mahout,  turning  round.  I  was 
so  excited  that  I  snatched  up  the  heavy  elephant-rifle 
instead  of  the  Express,  and  fired  just  above  those 
slow-slouching  legs.  The  big  rifle  went  off  with  a 
noise  like  an  air-raid,  and  knocked  me  with  mangled 
shoulder-blades  into  the  seat  of  the  howdah.  I  was 
sure  that  I  had  missed  altogether,  and  thought  no 
more  about  it,  but  when  the  beat  came  up  half  an  hour 
later,  a  huge  tiger  was  lying  there  stone  dead.  That, 
of  course,  was  an  absolute  piece  of  luck,  a  mere  fluke, 
as  I  had  never  even  seen  the  brute.  As  soon  as  the 
Maharajah  and  his  men  had  examined  the  big  tiger's 
teeth  they  at  once  pronounced  him  a  man-eater,  and 
there  was  great  rejoicing,  for  a  man-eating  tiger 
had  been  taking  toll  of  the  villagers  in  one  of  the  jun- 
gle clearings.  I  believe  that  tigers  only  take  to  eat- 
ing men  when  they  are  growing  old  and  their  teeth  be- 
gin to  fail  them,  a  man  being  easier  to  catch  than  a 
bullock  or  goat.  The  skins  of  these  two  tigers  have 
lain  on  my  drawing-room  carpet  for  thirty  years  now. 

On  our  second  day  the  Maharajah  shot  a  leopard. 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  31 

He  was  only  wounded,  and  I  have  never  seen  an  ani- 
mal fight  so  fiercely  or  with  such  indomitable  courage. 
Of  course,  the  whole  cat-tribe  are  very  tenacious  of 
life,  but  that  leopard  had  five  bullets  in  him,  and  still 
he  roared  and  hissed  and  spat,  though  his  life  was  ebb- 
ing from  him  fast.  We  must  have  worked  round  in 
a  circle  nearer  to  the  camp,  for  whilst  we  were  watch- 
ing the  leopard's  furious  fight  the  strains  of  the  Ma- 
harajah's orchestra  practising  "The  Gondoliers," 
floated  down-wind  to  us  quite  clearly.  I  remember 
it  well,  for  as  we  dismounted  to  look  at  the  dead  beast 
the  cornet  solo,  "Take  a  pair  of  sparkling  eyes,"  be- 
gan. There  was  such  a  startling  incongruity  between 
an  almost  untrodden  virgin  jungle  in  Assam,  with 
a  dead  leopard  lying  in  the  foreground,  and  that  fa- 
miliar strain  of  Sullivan's,  so  beloved  of  amateur 
tenors,  that  it  gave  a  curious  sense  of  unreality  to 
the  whole  scene. 

This  admirable  orchestra  made  the  evenings  very 
pleasant.  We  put  on  white  ties  and  tail-coats  every 
night  for  dinner  in  the  open  shamyandh,  where  the 
Maharajah  provided  us  with  an  excellent  European 
repast  served  on  solid  silver  plates.  As  the  endless 
resources  of  this  wonderful  camp  included  an  ice- 
making  machine,  he  also  gave  us  iced  champagne  every 
evening.  As  an  example  of  how  thorough  the  Ma- 
harajah was  in  his  arrangements,  he  had  brought  three 
of  his  malleeSj  or  native  gardeners,  with  him,  their 
sole  function  being  to  gather  wild  jungle-flowers 
daily,  and  to  decorate  the  tables  and  tents  with  them. 

Neither  the  Maharajah  nor  his  family  ever  touched 


any  of  the  European  food,  though,  as  they  were  not 
Hindoos,  but  belonged  to  the  Bramo-Somaj  religion, 
there  were  no  caste-laws  to  prevent  their  doing  so. 
Half-way  through  dinner  the  servants  brought  in 
large  square  silver  boxes,  some  of  rice,  others  of  va- 
rious curries :  hot  currie^,  dry  curries,  Ceylon  curries, 
and  green  vegetable  curries;  these  constituted  their 
dinner,  and  most  excellent  they  were. 

I  really  must  pay  a  tribute  to  the  graceful  and  de- 
lightful Maharanee,  who  presided  with  such  dignity 
and  charm  at  these  gatherings.  I  had  first  met  the 
Maharanee  in  London,  in  1887,  at  the  festivities  in 
connection  with  Queen  Victoria's  Jubilee.  The  Ma- 
haranee, the  daughter  of  a  very  ancient  Bengal  fam- 
ily, was  then  quite  young.  She  had  only  emerged 
"from  behind  the  curtain,"  as  natives  of  India  say, 
for  six  months.  In  other  words,  she  had  just  emanci- 
pated herself  from  the  seclusion  of  the  Zenana,  where 
Sne  had  lived  since  her  marriage.  She  had  then  very 
delicate  features,  and  most  lovely  eyes,  with  exqui- 
sitely moulded  hands  and  arms.  Very  wisely  she  had 
not  adopted  European  fashions  in  their  entirety,  but 
had  retained  the  becoming  saree  of  gold  or  silver  tis- 
sue or  brocade,  throwing  the  end  of  it  over  her  head 
as  a  veil,  and  looking  perfectly  charming  in  it.  Every- 
thing in  England  must  have  seemed  strange  to  her, 
the  climate,  the  habits,  and  the  mode  of  living,  and 
yet  this  little  Princess  behaved  as  though  she  had 
been  used  to  it  all  her  life,  and  still  managed  to  retain 
the  innate  dignity  of  the  high-caste  native  lady. 

As  one  travels  through  life  certain  pictures  remain 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  33 

vividly  clear-cut  in  the  memory.  The  evenings  in 
that  shooting-camp  are  amongst  these.  I  can  still 
imagine  myself  strolling  with  an  extremely  comely 
lady  along  the  stretches  of  natural  lawn  that  crowned 
the  bluff  above  the  river,  the  gurgle  and  splashing  of 
the  stream  loud  in  our  ears  as  we  looked  over  the 
unending  expanse  of  jungle  below  us,  vast  and  full 
of  mystery  under  the  brilliant  moonlight  of  India. 
In  India  the  moonlight  is  golden,  not  silvery  as  with 
us.  The  great  grey  sea  of  scrub,  with  an  occasional 
prominent  tree  catching  this  golden  light  on  its  clear- 
cut  outline,  had  something  awe-inspiring  about  it,  for 
here  one  was  face  to  face  with  real  Nature.  A  faint 
and  distant  roar  was  also  a  reminder  that  the  jungle 
had  its  inhabitants,  and  through  it  all  came  the 
quaintly  incongruous  strains  of  the  orchestra  playing 
a  selection  from  "The  Mikado" : 

"My  object  all  sublime,  I  shall  achieve  in  time, 
To  make  the  punishment  fit  the  crime, 
The  punishment  fit  the  crime." 

The  moonlit  jungle  night-scene,  and  the  familiar  air 
with  its  London  associations  were  such  endless  thou- 
sands of  miles  apart. 

On  the  floor  of  my  drawing-room,  in  Westminster, 
the  skin  of  a  bear  reposes  close  to  those  of  two  tigers. 
This  is  how  he  came  there:  We  were  at  breakfast 
when  kubber  of  a  bear  only  two  miles  away  was 
brought  in.  The  Maharajah  at  once  ordered  the 
howdah-elephants  round.  Opposite  me  on  the  break- 
fast-table stood  a  large  plate  of  buns,  which  the  camp 
baker  made  most  admirably.  Ever  since  my  earliest 


34  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

childhood  I  had  gone  on  every  possible  occasion  to 
the  Zoological  Gardens  in  Regent's  Park,  and  was 
therefore  in  a  position  to  know  what  was  the  favour- 
ite food  of  the  ursine  race.  That  they  did  not  exist 
on  buns  in  the  jungle  was  due  to  a  lack  of  oppor- 
tunity rather  than  to  a  lack  of  inclination,  so  I  argued 
that  the  dainty  would  prove  just  as  irresistible  to  a 
bear  in  the  jungle  as  it  did  to  his  brethren  in  the  big 
pit  near  the  entrance  to  the  Zoo,  and  ignoring  the 
rather  cheap  gibes  of  the  rest  of  the  party,  I  provided 
myself  with  half-a-dozen  buns,  three  of  which  I  at- 
tached by  long  strings  to  the  front  of  my  howdah, 
where  they  swung  about  like  an  edible  pawnbroker's 
sign.  The  bear  was  lying  in  a  very  small  patch  of 
bamboo,  and  broke  cover  at  once.  As  I  had  antici- 
pated, the  three  swinging  buns  proved  absolutely  ir- 
resistible to  him.  He  came  straight  up  to  me,  I  shot 
him  with  a  smooth-bore,  and  he  is  most  decorative  in 
his  present  position,  but  it  was  all  due  to  the  buns. 
The  Maharajah  told  me,  much  to  my  surprise,  that 
far  more  natives  were  killed  by  bears  than  by  tigers 
in  that  part  of  India. 

The  jungle  was  very  diversified:  in  places  it  con- 
sisted of  flat  tablelands  of  scrub,  varied  with  broad 
open  spaces  broken  by  thick  clumps  ("topes"  they 
are  called  by  Anglo-Indians)  of  bamboo.  In  other 
parts  there  were  rocky  ravines  covered  with  forest 
growth,  and  on  the  low  ground  far-stretching  and 
evil-smelling  swamps  spread  themselves,  the  home  of 
the  rhinoceros  and  water  buffalo. 

I  had  no  idea  of  an  elephant's  climbing  powers. 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  35 

These  huge  beasts  make  their  way  quite  easily  up 
rocky  ascents  no  horse  could  negotiate.  In  coming 
down  steep  declivities,  the  wise  creatures  extend  their 
hind-legs,  using  them  as,  brakes.  Cautious  old  Chota 
Begum  would  never  ford  any  river  without  sounding 
the  depth  with  her  trunk  at  every  step.  On  one  occa- 
sion two  of  the  Maharajah's  fishermen  were  paddling 
native  dug-outs  down-stream  as  we  approached  a 
river.  Chota  Begum,  who  had  never  before  seen  a 
dug-out,  took  them  for  crocodiles,  trumpeted  loudly 
with  alarm,  and  refused  to  enter  the  water  until  they 
were  quite  out  of  sight.  The  curious  intelligence  of 
the  animal  is  seen  when  they  are  ordered  to  remove 
a  tree  which  blocks  the  road.  Chota  Begum  would 
place  her  right  foot  against  the  trunk  and  give  a  little 
tentative  shove.  Not  satisfied  with  the  leverage,  she 
would  shift  her  foot  again  and  again  until  she  had 
found  the  right  spot,  then,  throwing  her  whole  weight 
on  to  her  foot,  the  tree  would  snap  off  like  a  wooden 
match. 

There  was  a  great  amount  of  bird-life  in  the  jungle. 
It  abounded  in  peacocks,  and  these  birds  are  a  glori- 
ous sight  sailing  down-wind  through  the  sunlight 
with  their  tails  streaming  behind  them,  at  a  pace  which 
would  leave  any  pheasant  standing.  As  peacocks 
are  regarded  as  sacred  by  Hindoos,  the  Maharajah 
had  particularly  begged  us  not  to  shoot  any.  There 
were  plenty  of  other  birds,  snipe,  partridges,  florican 
and  jungle-cocks,  the  two  latter  greatly  esteemed  for 
their  flesh.  I  shot  a  jungle-cock,  and  was  quite  dis- 
appointed at  finding  him  a  facsimile  of  our  barn- 


36  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

door  game-cock,  for  I  had  imagined  that  he  would 
have  the  velvety  black  wing  starred  with  cream-col- 
oured eyes,  which  we  associate  with  the  "jungle-cock 
wing"  of  salmon  flies.  The  so-called  "jungle-cock" 
in  a  "Jock  Scott"  fly  is  furnished  by  a  bird  found, 
I  believe,  only  round  Madras.  An  animal  peculiar 
to  this  part  of  Assam  is  the  pigmy  hog,  the  smallest 
of  the  swine  family.  These  little  beasts,  no  larger 
than  guinea-pigs,  go  about  in  droves  of  about  fifty, 
and  move  through  the  grass  with  such  incredible 
rapidity  that  the  eye  is  unable  to  follow  them.  The 
elephants,  oddly  enough,  are  scared  to  death  by  the 
pigmy  hogs,  for  the  Jittle  creatures  have  tushes  as 
sharp  as  razors,  and  gash  the  elephants'  feet  with  them 
as  they  run  past  them. 

I  think  that  we  all  regretted  the  Maharajah's  keen- 
ness about  water-buffalo  and  rhinos,  for  this  entailed 
long  days  of  plodding  on  elephants  through  steamy, 
fetid  swamps,  where  the  grass  was  twenty  feet  high 
and  met  over  one's  head,  where  the  heat  was  intoler- 
able, without  one  breath  of  air,  and  the  mosquitoes 
maddening.  A  day  in  the  swamps  entailed,  too,  a 
big  dose  of  quinine  at  bedtime.  Between  ourselves, 
I  was  terrified  at  the  prospect  of  having  to  fire  off 
the  heavy  four-bore  elephant-rifle.  The  "kick"  of 
fourteen-and-a-half  drachms  of  black-powder  is  tre- 
mendous, and  one's  shoulder  ached  for  two  hours 
afterwards,  though  I  do  not  regret  the  "kick"  in  sur- 
veying the  water-buffalo  which  has  hung  now  in  my 
hall  for  thirty  years.  I  have  only  seen  two  wild  rhi- 
noceroses in  my  life,  and  of  the  first  one  I  had  only 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  37 

a  very  brief  glimpse.  We  were  outside  the  swamp, 
when  down  a  jungle-track  came  a  charging  rhinoc- 
eros, his  head  down  and  an  evil  look  in  his  eye.  One 
look  was  enough  for  Chota  Begum.  That  most  re- 
spectable of  old  ladies  had  quite  evidently  no  love  for 
rhinos.  She  lost  her  nerve  completely,  and  ran  away 
for  two  miles  as  hard  as  her  ungainly  limbs  could  lay 
leg  to  the  ground.  It  is  no  joke  to  be  on  a  runaway 
elephant  maddened  with  fright,  and  it  is  extremely 
difficult  to  keep  one's  seat.  The  mahout  and  I  hung 
on  with  both  hands  for  dear  life,  the  guns  and  rifles 
crashing  together  with  a  deafening  clamour  of  iron- 
mongery, and  I  was  most  thankful  that  there  were  no 
trees  anywhere  near,  for  the  terrified  animal's  first 
impulse  would  have  been  to  knock  off  both  howdah 
and  mahout  under  the  overhanging  branch  of  a  tree. 
When  Chota  Begum  at  length  pulled  up,  she  had  te 
listen  to  some  terrible  home-truths  about  her  ancestry 
from  the  mahout,  who  was  bitterly  disappointed  in  his' 
beloved  charge.  As  to  questions  of  lineage,  and  the 
morals  of  Chota  Begum's  immediate  progenitors,  I 
can  only  hope  that  the  mahout  exaggerated,  for  he 
certainly  opened  up  appalling  perspectives.  Any  old 
lady  would  have  got  scared  at  seeing  so  hideous  a 
monster  preparing  to  rip  her  open,  and  under  the 
circumstances  you  and  I  would  have  run  away  just 
as  fast  as  Chota  Begum  did. 

The  only  other  wild  rhinoceros  I  ever  saw  was  on 
the  very  last  day  of  our  stay  in  Assam.  We  were 
returning  home  on  elephants,  when  they  began  to 
trumpet  loudly,  as  we  approached  a  little  dip.  My 


38  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

nephew,  General  Sir  Henry  Streatfeild,  called  out 
to  me  to  be  ready,  as  there  was  probably  a  bear  in 
the  hollow.  Next  moment  a  rhinoceros  charged  out 
and  made  straight  for  his  elephant.  Sir  Henry  fired 
with  a  heavy  four-bore  rifle,  and  by  an  extraordinary 
piece  of  good  luck  hit  the  rhino  in  the  one  little  spot 
where  he  is  vulnerable,  otherwise  he  must  have  been 
killed.  The  huge  beast  rolled  over  like  a  shot  hare, 
stone-dead. 

One  evening  on  our  way  back  to  camp,  we  thought 
that  we  would  ride  our  elephants  ourselves,  and  told 
the  mahouts  to  get  down.  They  had  no  fancy  for 
walking  two  miles  back  to  camp,  and  accordingly,  in 
some  mysterious  manner  of  which  they  have  the  se- 
cret, gave  their  charges  private  but  definite  orders. 
I  seated  myself  on  Chota  Begum's  neck,  put  my  feet 
in  the  string  stirrups,  and  took  the  big  ankus  in  my 
hand.  The  others  did  the  same.  I  then  ordered 
Chota  Begum  to  go  on,  using  the  exact  words  the 
mahout  did.  Chota  Begum  commenced  walking 
round  and  round  in  a  small  circle,  and  the  eight  other 
elephants  all  did  the  same.  I  tried  cajoling  her  as 
the  mahout  did,  and  assured  her  that  she  was  a 
"Pearl"  and  my  "Heart's  Delight."  Chota  Begum 
continued  walking  round  and  round  in  a  small  circle, 
as  did  all  the  other  elephants.  I  changed  my  tactics, 
and  made  the  most  unmerited  insinuations  as  to  her 
mother's  personal  character,  at  the  same  time  giving 
her  a  slight  hint  with  the  blunt  end  of  the  amhus. 
Chota  Begum  continued  stolidly  walking  round  and 
round.  Meanwhile  language  most  unsuited  to  a  Sun- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  39 

day  School  arose  from  other  members  of  the  party, 
who  were  also  careering  round  and  round  in  small 
circles.  Finally  an  Irish  A.D.C.  summed  up  the  situ- 
ation by  crying,  "These  mahouts  have  us  beat,"  where- 
upon we  capitulated,  and  a  simultaneous  shout  went 
up,  "Ohe,  Mahout-log!"  It  is  but  seldom  that  one 
sees  a  native  of  India  laughing,  but  those  mahouts, 
when  they  emerged  from  the  cover  of  some  bamboos, 
were  simply  bent  double  with  laughter.  How  they 
had  conveyed  their  wishes  to  the  elephants  beats  me 
still. 

The  best  of  things  must  come  to  an  end,  and  so  did 
the  Cooch  Behar  shoot.  It  is  an  experience  that  I 
would  not  have  missed  for  anything,  especially  as  I 
am  now  too  old  to  hope  to  be  able  to  repeat  it. 

The  Maharajah  was  good  enough  to  invite  me  again 
the  next  year,  1892,  but  by  that  time  I  was  seated 
in  an  editorial  chair,  and  could  not  leave  London. 
In  the  place  of  the  brilliant  sunshine  of  Assam,  the 
grimy,  murky  London  atmosphere;  instead  of  the 
distant  roars  from  the  jungle,  the  low  thunder  of  the 
big  "machines"  in  the  basement,  as  they  began  to  re- 
volve, grinding  out  fresh  reading-matter  for  the  insa- 
tiable British  public. 

The  memories,  however,  remain.  Blazing  sunlight ; 
splendid  sport ;  endless  tracts  of  khaki-coloured  jun- 
gle; princely  hospitality;  pleasant  fellowship;  cheery 
company. 

What  more  can  any  one  ask? 


CHAPTER  II 

Mighty  Kinchinj  anga — The  inconceivable  splendours  of  a 
Himalayan  sunrise — The  last  Indian  telegraph-office — The 
irrepressible  British  Tommy — An  improvised  garden — An 
improvised  Durbar  Hall — A  splendid  ceremony — A  native 
dinner — The  disguised  Europeans — Our  shocking  table- 
manners — Incidents — Two  impersonations;  one  successful, 
the  other  reverse — I  come  off  badly — Indian  jugglers — The 
rope-trick — The  juggler,  the  rope,  and  the  boy — An  in- 
explicable incident — A  performing  cobra  scores  a  success — 
Ceylon  "Devil  Dancers" — Their  performance — The  Temple 
of  the  Tooth — The  uncovering  of  the  Tooth — Details  con- 
cerning— An  abominable  libel — Tea  and  coffee — Peradeniya 
Gardens — The  upas  tree  of  Java — Colombo  an  Eastern 
Clapham  Junction — The  French  lady  and  the  savages — The 
small  Bermudian  and  the  inhabitants  of  England. 

DURING  our  early  morning  walks  through  the  jungle- 
tracts  of  Assam,  on  clear  days  we  occasionally 
caught  a  brief  glimpse  of  a  glittering  white  cone  on 
the  horizon.  This  was  mighty  Kinchinj  anga,  the 
second  highest  mountain  in  the  world,  distant  then 
from  us  I  should  be  afraid  to  say  how  many  miles. 

To  see  Kinchinj  anga  to  perfection,  one  must  go 
to  Darjeeling.  What  a  godsend  this  cool  hill-station 
is  to  Calcutta,  for  in  twenty  hours  the  par-boiled 
Europeans  by  the  Hooghly  can  find  themselves  in  a 
temperature  like  that  of  an  English  April.  At  Silli- 
guri,  where  the  East  Bengal  Railway  ends,  some  hu- 
morist has  erected,  close  to  the  station,  a  sign-post 
inscribed  "To  Lhassa  359  miles."  The  sign-post  has 
omitted  to  state  that  this  entails  an  ascent  of  16,500 

40 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  41 

feet.  The  Darjeeling-Himalayan  Railway,  an  in- 
trepid little  mountain-climber,  looks  as  though  it  had 
come  out  of  a  toy-shop,  for  the  gauge  is  only  two  feet, 
and  the  diminutive  engines  and  carriages  could  almost 
be  pulled  about  with  a  string.  As  the  little  train 
pants  its  leisurely  way  up  6000  feet,  it  is  worth  while 
noticing  how  the  type  of  the  country  people  changes. 
The  brown-skinned  Aryan  type  of  the  plains  is  soon 
replaced  by  the  yellow,  flat-faced  Mongolian  type  of 
the  hills,  and  the  women  actually  have  a  tinge  of  red 
in  their  cheeks. 

The  first  time  that  I  was  at  Darjeeling  it  was 
veiled  in  perpetual  mists;  on  the  last  occasion,  to 
compensate  for  this,  there  were  ten  days  of  continual 
clear  weather.  Then  it  is  that  it  is  worth  while  getting 
up  at  5.30  a.m.  and  going  down  into  a  frost-nipped 
garden,  there  to  wait  patiently  in  the  dark.  In  the 
eastern  sky  there  is  that  faintest  of  jade-green  glim- 
mers, known  as  the  "false  dawn";  below  it  the  deep 
valleys  are  still  wrapped  in  dark  purple  shadows, 
when  quite  suddenly  Homer's  "rosy-fingered  dawn," 
po5o5axrvXos  'Hws,  (was  ever  more  beautiful  epithet 
coined?)  lays  one  shy,  tentative  finger-tip  of  blaz- 
ing, flaming  crimson  on  a  vast  unseen  bulk,  towering 
up  28,000  feet  into  the  air.  Then  quickly  comes  a 
second  flaming  finger-tip,  and  a  third,  until  you  are 
fronting  a  colossal  pyramid  of  the  most  intensely 
vivid  rose-colour  imaginable.  It  is  a  glorious  sight! 
Suddenly,  in  one  minute,  the  crimson  splendour  is  re- 
placed by  the  most  dazzling,  intense  white,  and  as 
much  as  the  eye  can  grasp  of  the  two-thousand-mile- 


42  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

long  mountain-rampart  springs  into  light,  peak  after 
peak,  blazing  with  white  radiance,  whilst  the  world  be- 
low is  still  slumbering  in  the  half -shadows,  and  the 
valleys  are  filled  with  purple  darkness.  I  do  not  be- 
lieve that  there  is  any  more  splendidly  sublime  sight 
to  be  seen  in  the  whole  world.  For  a  while  the  eternal 
snows,  unchanging  in  their  calm  majesty,  dominate 
the  puny  world  below,  and  then,  because  perhaps  it 
would  not  be  good  to  gaze  for  long  on  so  magnificent 
a  spectacle,  the  mists  fall  and  the  whole  scene  is  blot- 
ted out,  leaving  in  the  memory  a  revelation  of  un- 
speakable grandeur.  I  saw  this  sunrise  daily  for  a 
week,  and  its  glories  seemed  greater  every  day.  For 
some  reason  that  I  cannot  explain  it  always  recalled 
to  me  a  passage  in  Job  xxxviii,  "When  the  morning 
stars  sang  together,  and  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted 
for  joy." 

No  one  has  ever  yet  succeeded  in  scaling  Kinchin- 
janga,  and  I  do  not  suppose  that  any  one  ever  will. 

Darjeeling  itself,  in  spite  of  its  magnificent  sur- 
roundings, looks  like  a  portion  of  a  transplanted  Lon- 
don suburb,  but  there  is  a  certain  piquancy  in  reflect- 
ing that  it  is  only  fifteen  miles  from  the  borders  of 
Tibet.  The  trim,  smug  villas  of  Dalhousie  and  Auck- 
land Roads  may  have  electric  light,  and  neat  gardens 
full  of  primroses;  fifteen  miles  away  civilisation,  as 
we  understand  the  term,  ends.  There  are  neither 
roads,  post-offices,  telegraphs  nor  policemen;  these 
tidy  commonplace  "Belle  Vues,"  "Claremonts"  and 
"Montpeliers"  are  on  the  very  threshold  of  the  mys- 
terious Forbidden  Land.  An  Army  doctor  told  me 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  43 

that  he  had  been  up  at  the  last  frontier  telegraph- 
office  of  India.  It  is  well  above  the  line  of  snows,  and 
one  would  imagine  it  a  terrible  place  of  captivity  for 
the  Sergeant  and  four  Privates  (all  white  men)  in 
charge  of  it,  but  the  spirits  of  the  British  Tommy  are 
unquenchable.  The  men  had  amused  themselves  by 
painting  notices,  and  the  perpetual  snow  round  the 
telegraph-office  was  dotted  with  boards :  "this  way  to 
the  swings  and  boats";  "the  public  are  requested  not 
to  walk  on  the  newly  sown  grass";  "try  our  famous 
shilling  teas";  "all  season-tickets  must  be  shown  at 
the  barrier,"  and  many  more  like  them.  It  takes  a 
great  deal  to  depress  the  average  British  soldier. 

Natives  of  India  are  extraordinarily  good  at 
"camouflaging"  improvised  surroundings,  for  they 
have  been  used  to  doing  it  for  centuries.  I  was  once 
talking  to  Lord  Kitchener  at  his  official  house  in  Fort 
William,  Calcutta,  when  he  asked  me  to  come  and 
have  a  look  at  the  garden.  He  informed  me  that  he 
was  giving  a  garden-party  to  fifteen  hundred  guests 
in  three  days'  time,  and  wondered  whether  the  space 
were  sufficient  for  it.  I  told  him  that  I  was  certain 
that  it  was  not,  and  that  I  doubted  whether  half  that 
number  could  get  in.  "Very  well,"  said  Lord  Kitch- 
ener, "I  shall  have  the  whole  of  the  Fort  ditch 
turned  into  a  garden  to-morrow."  Next  day  he  had 
eight  hundred  coolies  at  work.  They  levelled  the 
rough  sand,  marked  out  with  pegs  walks  of  pounded 
bricks,  which  they  flattened,  sowed  the  sand  with 
mustard  and  cress  and  watered  it  abundantly  to  coun- 
terfeit lawns,  and  finally  brought  cartloads  of  grow- 


44  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

ing  flowers,  shrubs  and  palms,  which  they  "plunged" 
in  the  mustard-and-cress  lawns,  and  in  thirty-six 
hours  there  was  a  garden  apparently  established  for 
years.  It  is  true  that  the  mustard-and-cress  lawns 
did  not  bear  close  inspection,  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
you  could  eat  them,  which  you  cannot  do  with  ours. 
Lord  Kitchener  was  fond  of  saying  that  he  had  never 
been  intended  for  a  soldier,  but  for  an  architect  and 
house-decorator.  Certainly  the  additions  made  to  his 
official  house,  which  were  all  carried  out  from  his  own 
designs,  were  very  effective  and  in  excellent  taste. 

In  a  country  like  India,  where  so  much  takes  place 
out  of  doors,  wonderful  effects  can  be  produced,  as 
Lord  Kitchener  said,  with  some  rupees,  some  native 
boys,  and  a  good  many  yards  of  insulated  wire.  The 
boys  are  sent  climbing  up  the  trees;  they  drop  long 
pieces  of  twine  to  which  the  electric  wires  are  tied; 
they  haul  them  up,  and  proceed  to  wire  the  trees  and 
to  fix  coloured  bulbs  up  to  their  very  tops.  Night 
comes ;  a  switch  is  pressed,  and  every  tree  in  the  gar- 
den is  a  blaze  of  ruby,  sapphire,  or  emerald,  with  the 
most  admirable  result. 

Lord  Minto  was  holding  a  large  Investiture  of  the 
"Star  of  India"  the  last  time  that  I  was  in  Calcutta. 
He  wished  to  have  at  least  two  thousand  people  pres- 
ent, and  large  as  are  the  rooms  at  Government  House, 
not  one  of  them  would  contain  anything  like  that 
number,  so  Lord  Minto  had  an  immense  canvas  Dur- 
bar Hall  constructed.  Here  again  the  useful  factor 
comes  in  of  knowing  to  a  day  when  the  earliest  pos- 
sible shower  of  rain  is  due.  The  tent,  a  huge  flat- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  45 

topped  "Shamyana,"  was,  when  finished,  roughly 
paved  with  bricks,  over  which  were  spread  priceless 
Persian  and  Indian  carpets  from  the  "Tosho  Khana" 
or  Treasury.  The  sides  and  roof  were  stretched  at 
one  end  with  sulphur-coloured  Indian  silk,  at  the 
other  with  pale  blue  silk,  the  yellow  silk  with  a  two- 
foot  border  of  silver  tinsel,  the  blue  edged  with  gold 
tinsel.  Cunning  craftsmen  from  Agra  fashioned 
"camouflage"  doorways  and  columns  of  plaster,  col- 
oured and  gilt  in  the  style  of  the  arabesques  in  the 
Alhambra,  and  the  thing  was  done ;  almost  literally, 

"Out  of  the  earth  a  fabric  huge 
Rose  like  an  exhalation," 

and  it  would  be  impossible  to  imagine  a  more  splen- 
did setting  for  a  great  pageant.  Some  one  on  the 
Viceroy's  staff  must  have  had  a  great  gift  for  stage- 
management,  for  every  detail  had  been  carefully 
thought  out.  The  scarlet  and  gold  of  the  Troopers 
of  the  Body-guard,  standing  motionless  as  brown 
statues,  the  mace-men  with  their  gilt  standards,  the 
entry  of  the  Rajahs,  all  in  full  gala  costume,  with 
half  tfie  amount  of  our  pre-war  National  Debt  hang- 
ing round  their  necks  in  the  shape  of  diamonds  and  of 
uncut  rubies  and  emeralds,  the  Knights  of  the  Star 
of  India  in  their  pale-blue  mantles,  the  Viceroy  seated 
on  his  silver-gilt  throne  at  the  top  of  a  flight  of  steps, 
on  which  all  the  Durbar  carpets  of  woven  gold  were 
displayed,  made,  under  the  blaze  of  electric  light,  an 
amazingly  gorgeous  spectacle  only  possible  in  the 
East,  and  it  would  be  difficult  for  any  European  to 


46  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

have  equalled  the  immense  dignity  of  the  Native 
Princes. 

Custom  forbids  the  Viceroy's  wife  to  dine  out,  but 
it  had  been  long  agreed  between  Lady  Lansdowne 
and  the  Maharanee  of  Cooch  Behar,  that  should  she 
ever  return  to  India  as  a  private  person  she  should 
come  to  a  dinner  served  native  fashion,  "on  the  floor.'* 
My  sister  having  returned  to  Calcutta  for  her  son's 
marriage  in  1909,  the  Maharanee  reminded  her  of 
this  promise.  Upon  arriving  at  the  house,  Lady 
Lansdowne  and  two  other  European  ladies  were  con- 
ducted up-stairs  to  be  arrayed  in  native  garb,  whilst 
the  Maharajah's  sons  with  great  glee  took  charge  of 
myself,  of  yet  another  nephew  of  mine,  and  of  the 
Viceroy's  head  aide-de-camp.  Although  it  can  hardly 
be  taken  as  a  compliment,  truth  compels  me  to  confess 
that  the  young  Cooch  Behars  considered  my  figure 
reminiscent  of  that  of  a  Bengalee  gentleman.  With 
some  slight  shock  to  my  modesty,  I  was  persuaded  to 
discard  my  trousers,  being  draped  in  their  place  with 
over  thirty  yards  of  white  muslin,  wound  round  and 
round,  and  in  and  out  of  my  lower  limbs.  A  dark 
blue  silk  tunic,  and  a  flat  turban  completed  my  trans- 
formation into  a  Bengalee  country  squire,  or  his 
equivalent.  My  nephew,  being  very  slight  and  tall, 
was  at  once  turned  into  a  Sikh,  with  skin-tight  trou- 
sers, a  very  high  turban,  and  the  tightest  of  cloth-of- 
gold  tunics,  whilst  the  other  young  man,  a  good-look- 
ing dark  young  fellow,  became  a  Rajput  prince,  and 
shimmered  with  silver  brocades.  I  must  own  that 
European  ladies  do  not  show  up  to  advantage  in  the 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  47 

native  sare.  Their  colouring  looks  all  wrong,  and 
they  have  not  the  knack  of  balancing  their  unaccus- 
tomed draperies.  Our  ladies  all  looked  as  though 
they  were  terrified  that  their  voluminous  folds  would 
suddenly  slip  off  (which,  indeed,  they  owned  was  the 
case) ,  leaving  them  most  indelicately  lightly  clad.  One 
could  not  help  observing  the  contrast  between  the  ner- 
vousness of  the  three  European  ladies,  draped  re- 
spectively in  white  and  gold,  pink  and  silver,  and  blue 
and  gold,  and  the  grace  with  which  the  Maharanee, 
with  the  ease  of  long  practice,  wore  her  becoming 
sare  of  brown  and  cloth  of  gold.  As  it  had  been  agreed 
that  strict  native  fashion  was  to  be  observed,  we  were 
all  shoeless.  The  Maharanee,  laughing  like  a  child, 
sprinkled  us  with  rose-water,  and  threw  garlands  of 
flowers  and  wreaths  of  tinsel  round  our  necks.  I  felt 
like  a  walking  Christmas-tree  as  we  went  down  to 
dinner. 

Round  a  large,  empty,  marble-paved  room,  twelve 
little  red-silk  beds  were  disposed,  one  for  each  guest. 
In  front  of  each  bed  stood  an  assemblage  of  some 
thirty  silver  bowls,  big  and  little,  all  grouped  round 
a  large  silver  platter,  piled  a  foot  high  with  a  pyramid 
of  rice.  This  was  the  entire  dinner,  and  there  were, 
of  course,  neither  knives  nor  forks.  No  one  who  has 
not  tried  it  can  have  any  idea  of  the  difficulty  of  plung- 
ing the  right  hand  into  a  pile  of  rice,  of  attempting  to 
form  a  ball  of  it,  and  then  dipping  it  at  haphazard 
into  one  of  the  silver  bowls  of  mysterious  prepara- 
tions. Very  little  of  my  rice  ever  reached  my  mouth, 
for  it  insisted  on  spreading  itself  greasily  over  the 


48  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

marble  floor,  and  I  was  gratified  at  noting  that  the 
European  ladies  managed  no  better  than  I  did.  Added 
to  which,  half -lying,  half -reclining  on  the  little  silk 
beds,  the  unaccustomed  European  gets  attacked  by 
violent  cramps;  one  is  also  conscious  of  the  presence 
of  bones  in  the  most  unexpected  portions  of  one's 
anatomy,  and  these  bones  begin  aching  furiously  in 
the  novel  position.  Some  native  dishes  are  excellent; 
others  must  certainly  be  acquired  tastes.  For  instance, 
after  a  long  course  of  apprenticeship  one  might  be 
in  a  position  to  appreciate  snipe  stewed  in  rose-water, 
and  I  am  convinced  that  asafcetida  as  a  dressing  to 
chicken  must  be  delicious  to  those  trained  to  it  from 
their  infancy.  A  quaint  sweet,  compounded  of  cocoa- 
nut  cream  and  rose-water,  and  gilded  all  over  with 
gold-leaf,  lingers  in  my  memory.  As  hands  naturally* 
get  greasy,  eating  in  this  novel  fashion,  two  servants 
were  constantly  ready  with  a  silver  basin  and  a  long- 
necked  silver  ewer,  with  which  to  pour  water  over 
soiled  hands.  This  basin  and  ewer  delighted  me,  for 
in  shape  they  were  exactly  like  the  ones  that  "the 
little  captive  maid"  was  offering  to  Naaman's  wife 
in  a  picture  which  hung  in  my  nursery  as  a  child.  I 
liked  watching  the  graceful  play  of  the  wrists  and 
arms  of  the  Maharanee  and  her  daughters  as  they 
conveyed  food  to  their  mouths;  it  was  a  contrast  to 
the  clumsy,  ineffectual  efforts  of  the  Europeans. 

The  aide-de-camp  looked  so  wonderfully  natural 
as  a  Rajput  prince  (and  that,  too,  without  any  brown 
make-up)  that  we  wished  him  to  dress-up  in  the  same 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  49 

clothes  next  day  and  to  go  and  write  his  name  on  the 
Viceroy,  to  see  if  he  could  avoid  detection. 

These  sorts  of  impersonations  have  to  be  done  very 
thoroughly  if  they  are  to  succeed.  I  have  recounted 
elsewhere  how  my  father  won  the  rowing  champion- 
ship of  the  Mediterranean  with  his  four-oar,  in  1866. 
The  course  being  such  a  severe  one,  his  crew  had  to 
train  very  rigorously.  It  occurred  to  my  father,  who 
was  extremely  fond  of  boxing  himself,  that  a  little 
daily  practice  with  the  gloves  might  with  advantage 
form  part  of  the  training.  He  accordingly  had  four 
pairs  of  boxing-gloves  sent  out  from  England,  and  he 
and  the  crew  had  daily  bouts  in  our  coach-house.  The 
Due  de  Vallombrosa  was  a  great  friend  of  my  fam- 
ily's, and  used  to  watch  this  boxing  with  immense 
interest.  The  Due  was  a  huge  man,  very  powerfully 
built,  but  had  had  no  experience  with  the  gloves.  The 
present  Sir  David  Erskine  was  the  youngest  member 
of  the  crew,  and  was  very  slender  and  light  built,  and 
it  struck  my  father  one  day  that  it  would  be  interest- 
ing to  see  this  comparative  stripling  put  on  the  gloves 
with  the  great  burly  Frenchman.  Sir  David  realised 
that  his  only  chance  with  his  huge  brawny  opponent 
was  to  tire  him  out,  for  should  this  formidable  Colos- 
sus once  get  home  on  him,  he  would  be  done.  He 
made  great  play  with  his  foot-work,  skipping  round 
his  big  opponent  and  pommelling  every  inch  of  his 
anatomy  that  he  could  reach,  and  successfully  dodg- 
ing the  smashing  blows  that  his  slow-moving  antago- 
nist tried  to  deal  him.  Suddenly,  and  quite  unexpect- 
edly, the  big  Frenchman  collapsed.  The  Due  de 


50  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

Vallombrosa  took  his  defeat  in  the  most  sportsman- 
like fashion,  but  he  remembered  who  had  originally 
proposed  the  match. 

A  week  later  my  father  was  riding  home  from  a  pic- 
nic with  some  ladies.  As  their  horses  were  tired,  he 
proposed  that  they  should  save  a  long  round  by  riding 
along  the  railway  line  and  over  a  railway  bridge.  The 
Due  de  Vallombrosa  heard  of  this.  Some  few  nights 
later  two  gendarmes  in  full  uniform  appeared  at  our 
villa  after  dark,  and  the  bigger  of  the  two  demanded 
in  the  most  peremptory  fashion  to  be  taken  in  to  my 
father  at  once,  leaving  the  younger  one  to  watch  the 
front  door,  where  we  could  all  see  him  marching  up 
and  down.  When  ushered  in  to  my  father,  the  gen- 
darme, a  huge,  fiercely  bearded  man,  adopted  the 
most  truculent  manner.  It  had  come  to  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  police,  he  said,  that  my  father  had  ridden 
on  horse-back  over  a  railway  bridge,  and  along  the 
line.  Did  he  admit  it?  My  father  at  once  owned  that 
he  had  done  so,  but  pleaded  ignorance,  should  he 
have  broken  any  rule.  Ignorance  was  no  excuse,  re- 
torted the  gendarme,  even  foreigners  were  supposed 
to  know  the  law.  The  big  bearded  gendarme,  whose 
tone  became  more  hectoring  and  bullying  every  mo- 
ment, went  on  to  say  that  my  father  had  broken 
Article  382  of  the  French  Penal  Code,  a  very  serious 
offence  indeed,  punishable  with  from  three  to  six 
months'  imprisonment.  My  father  smiled,  and  draw- 
ing out  his  pocket-book,  said  that  he  imagined  that 
the  offence  could  be  compounded.  The  stern  officer 
of  the  law  grew  absolutely  furious;  did  my  father 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  51 

suppose  that  a  French  gendarme  could  be  bribed  into 
forgetting  his  duty?    He  would  now  take  my  father 
to  the  lock-up  to  pass  the  night  there  until  the  proces 
verbal  should  be  drawn  up,  and  though  he  regretted 
it,  his  orders  in  similar  cases  were  always  to  handcuff 
his  prisoners.    The  family,  who  had  gathered  together 
on  hearing  the  loud  altercation,  were  struck  with  con- 
sternation.   The  idea  of  our  parent  being  led  in  fet- 
ters through  a  French  town,  and  then  flung  into  a 
French  dungeon,  was  so  unspeakably  painful  to  us 
that  we  were  nearly  throwing  ourselves  at  the  big 
policeman's  feet  to  implore  him  to  spare  our  progeni- 
tor, when  the  burly  gendarme  suddenly  pulled  off  his 
false   beard,    revealing   the   extensive   but    familiar 
features  of  the  Due  de  Vallombrosa.     The  second 
slight-built  gendarme  at  the  door,  proved  to  be  Gen- 
eral Sir  George  Higginson,  most  admirably  made  up. 
My  father  insisted  on  the  two  gendarmes  dining  with 
us.    As  our  servants  were  not  in  the  secret,  the  pres- 
ence of  two  French  policemen  in  uniform  at  the  family 
dinner-table  must  have  rather  surprised  them. 

I  must  plead  guilty  myself  to  another  attempt  at 
impersonation.  During  my  father's  second  term  of 
office  as  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland,  my  mother  had 
a  severe  nervous  breakdown,  due  to  the  unexpected 
death  of  a  very  favourite  sister  of  mine.  One  of  the 
principal  duties  of  a  Lord  Lieutenant  is  (or  rather 
was)  to  entertain  ceaselessly,  and  private  mourning 
was  not  supposed  to  interfere  with  this  all-important 
task.  So,  after  a  respite  of  four  months,  the  endless 
round  of  dinners,  dances,  and  balls  recommenced,  but 


52  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

my  mother  could  not  forget  her  loss,  and  had  no  heart 
for  any  festivities,  nor  did  she  wish  to  meet  strangers. 
My  father  took  a  house  for  her  on  the  sea-coast  near 
Dublin,  to  which  she  retired,  and  my  only  remaining 
unmarried  sister  took,  with  Queen  Victoria's  per- 
mission, my  mother's  place  as  Lady  Lieutenant  for 
two  years. 

A  brother  cannot  be  an  impartial  judge  of  his 
sister's  personal  appearance,  but  I  have  always  under- 
stood that  my  seven  sisters  were  regarded  by  most 
people  as  ranking  only  second  to  the  peerless  Mon- 
crieffe  sisters  as  regards  beauty.  Certainly  I  thought 
this  particular  sister,  the  late  Lady  Winterton,  sur- 
passed the  others  in  outward  appearance,  for  she  had 
beautiful  and  very  refined  features,  and  the  most  ex- 
quisite skin  and  complexion.  I  thought  her  a  most 
lovely  apparition  when  covered  with  my  mother's 
jewels. 

In  those  days  (how  far  off  they  seem!)  one  of  the 
great  events  of  the  Dublin  Season  was  the  Gala-night 
at  the  theatre,  or  "Command  Night"  as  it  was  called, 
when  all  the  men  wore  uniform  or  Court  dress,  and 
the  ladies  their  very  best  clothes.  When  the  Lord 
and  Lady  Lieutenant  entered  the  State  box,  attended 
by  the  various  members  of  their  Household,  the  audi- 
ence stood  up,  the  band  playing  "God  Save  the 
Queen!"  (yes,  that  was  in  Dublin  in  1875!),  and  the 
Viceregal  pair  then  bowed  their  acknowledgments 
to  the  house  from  their  box. 

On  the  "Command  Night"  in  1875  my  sister  took 
my  mother's  place,  and,  as  I  have  already  said,  dia- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  53 

monds  were  exceedingly  becoming  to  her.  Accord- 
ing to  custom,  she  went  to  the  front  of  the  box,  and 
made  a  low  sweeping  curtsey  to  the  audience.  Ten 
days  later  she  received  a  letter  from  an  unknown  cor- 
respondent, together  with  a  photograph  of  a  portly 
elderly  man  with  large  grey  whiskers.  He  had  been 
taken  in  an  unusual  position,  for  he  was  making  a  low 
bow  and  holding  his  high  hat  at  arm's  length  from 
him.  The  writer  explained  that  on  the  Command 
Night  my  sister  had  bowed  to  him  in  the  most  marked 
way.  So  taken  aback  was  he,  that  he  had  not  ac- 
knowledged it.  He,  therefore,  to  make  amends,  had 
had  himself  photographed  in  an  attitude  of  perpetual 
salutation.  Other  letters  rained  in  on  my  sister  from 
the  eccentric  individual,  and  he  sent  her  almost  weekly 
fresh  presentments  of  his  unprepossessing  exterior, 
but  always  in  a  bowing  attitude.  We  made,  natu- 
rally, inquiries  about  this  person,  and  found  that  he 
was  an  elderly  widower,  a  hatter  by  trade,  who  had 
retired  from  business  after  making  a  considerable  for- 
tune, and  was  living  in  Rathmines,  a  South  Dublin 
suburb.  The  hatter  was  undoubtedly  mad,  a  mental 
infirmity  for  which  there  is,  of  course,  ample  precedent 
in  the  case  of  gentlemen  of  his  profession. 

On  one  occasion,  when  my  sister  was  leaving  for 
England,  the  hatter,  having  purchased  a  number  of 
fireworks,  chartered  a  rowing-boat,  and  as  the  mail- 
steamer  cleared  the  Kingstown  pier-heads,  a  bouquet 
of  rockets  and  Roman  candles  coruscated  before  the 
eyes  of  the  astonished  passengers.  I  was  then  eigh- 
teen, and  as  none  of  us  had  set  eyes  on  the  hatter,  it 


54  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

occurred  to  me  that  it  would  be  rather  fun  to  imper- 
sonate him,  so,  taking  a  photograph  with  me  as  guide, 
I  got  his  bald  grey  head  and  long  grey  whiskers  accu- 
rately copied  by  a  Dublin  theatrical  wig-maker.  It 
would  have  been  difficult  to  carry  out  my  idea  at  the 
Viceregal  Lodge,  for  in  the  hall  there,  in  addition  to 
the  regular  hall-porter,  there  was  always  a  constable 
in  uniform  and  a  plain-clothes  man  on  duty,  to  pre- 
vent the  entry  of  unauthorised  persons,  so  I  waited 
until  we  had  moved  to  Baron's  Court.  Here  I  made 
careful  preparations,  and  arranged  to  dress  and  make- 
up at  the  house  of  the  Head-Keeper,  a  great  ally  of 
mine.  I  was  met  here  by  a  hack-car  ordered  from 
the  neighbouring  town,  and  drove  up  to  the  front  door 
armed  with  a  nosegay  the  size  of  a  cart-wheel,  com- 
posed of  dahlias,  hollyhocks  and  sunflowers.  I  gave 
the  hatter's  name  at  the  door,  and  was  ushered  by  the 
unsuspecting  footman  into  a  library,  where  I  waited 
an  interminable  time  with  my  gigantic  bouquet  in 
my  hand.  At  length  the  door  opened,  but  instead  of 
my  sister,  as  I  had  anticipated,  it  admitted  my  father, 
and  my  father  had  a  hunting-crop  in  his  hand,  and  to 
the  crop  was  attached  a  heavy  thong.  His  first  words 
left  me  in  no  doubt  as  to  his  attitude.  "So,  sir,"  he 
thundered,  "you  are  the  individual  who  has  had  the 
impertinence  to  pester  my  daughter  with  your  atten- 
tions. I  am  going  to  give  you,  sir,  a  lesson  that  you 
will  remember  to  the  end  of  your  life,"  and  the  crop 
was  lifted.  Fortunately  the  room  was  crowded  with 
furniture,  so,  crouching  between  tables,  and  dodging 
behind  sofas,  I  was  able  to  elude  the  thong  until  I  had 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  55 

tugged  my  wig  off.  The  spirit-gum  manufactured  in 
those  days  must  have  been  vastly  superior  to  that  made 
now,  for  nothing  would  induce  my  whiskers  to  part 
company  with  my  face.  Yelling  out  my  identity,  in 
spite  of  the  hatter's  tactlessly  adhesive  whiskers,  I 
made  one  bolt  for  the  open  window,  having  success- 
fully evaded  the  whirling  crop  every  time,  but  it  was 
a  lamentably  tame  ending  to  a  carefully  planned 
drama. 

Remembering  these  family  incidents,  we  decided 
that  it  would  be  as  well  to  abandon  the  idea  of  a  visit 
to  Government  House  by  a  distinguished  Rajput 
nobleman. 

I  may  possibly  have  been  unfortunate  in  my  per- 
sonal experiences  of  Indian  jugglers,  but  I  have 
never  seen  them  perform  any  trick  that  was  difficult 
of  explanation.  For  instance,  the  greatly  over-rated 
Mango  trick,  as  I  have  seen  it,  was  an  almost  child- 
ish performance.  Having  made  his  heap  of  sand,  in- 
serted the  mango-stone,  and  watered  it,  the  juggler 
covered  it  with  a  large  basket,  and  put  his  hands  under 
the  basket.  He  did  this  between  each  stage  of  the 
growth  of  the  tree.  The  plants  in  their  various 
stages  of  growth  were,  of  course,  twisted  round  the 
inside  of  the  basket,  and  he  merely  subsituted  one 
for  another. 

Colonel  Barnard,  at  one  time  Chief  of  Police  in 
Calcutta,  told  me  a  most  curious  story.  We  have  all 
heard  of  the  Indian  "rope-trick,"  but  none  of  us  have 
met  a  person  who  actually  saw  it  with  his  own  eyes: 
the  story  never  reaches  us  at  first-hand,  but  always 


56  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

at  second-  or  third-hand,  exactly  like  the  accounts  one 
heard  from  credulous  people  in  1914  of  the  passage 
of  the  75,000  Russian  soldiers  through  England.  No 
one  had  actually  seen  them,  but  every  one  knew  some- 
body else  whose  wife's  cousin  had  actually  conversed 
with  these  mysterious  Muscovites,  or  had  seen  trains 
with  closely  veiled  windows  rushing  at  dead  of  night 
towards  London,  crammed  to  overflowing  with  Rus- 
sian warriors. 

In  the  same  way  Colonel  Barnard  had  never  met 
an  eye-witness  of  the  rope-trick,  but  his  policemen  had 
received  orders  to  report  to  him  the  arrival  in  Calcutta 
of  any  juggler  professing  to  do  it.  At  length  one  of 
the  police  informed  him  that  a  man  able  to  perform 
the  trick  had  reached  Calcutta.  He  would  show  it  on 
one  condition :  that  Colonel  Barnard  should  be  accom- 
panied by  one  friend  only.  The  Colonel  took  with  him 
one  of  his  English  subordinates ;  he  also  took  with  him 
his  Kodak,  into  which  he  had  inserted  a  new  roll  of 
films.  They  arrived  at  a  poor  house  in  the  native 
quarter,  where  they  were  ushered  into  a  small  court- 
yard thick  with  the  dense  smoke  arising  from  two 
braziers  burning  mysterious  compounds.  The  jug- 
gler, naked  except  for  his  loin-cloth,  appeared  and 
commenced  salaaming  profoundly,  continuing  his 
exaggerated  salaams  for  some  little  while.  Eventu- 
ally he  produced  a  long  coil  of  rope.  To  Colonel 
Barnard's  inexpressible  surprise,  the  rope  began 
paying  away,  as  sailors  would  say,  out  of  the  juggler's 
hand  of  its  own  accord,  and  went  straight  up  into  the 
air.  Colonel  Barnard  kodaked  it.  It  went  up  and  up, 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  57 

till  their  eyes  could  no  longer  follow  it.  Colonel  Bar- 
nard kodaked  it  again.  Then  a  small  boy,  standing 
by  the  juggler,  commenced  climbing  up  this  rope, 
suspended  to  nothing,  supported  by  nothing.  He  was 
kodaked.  The  boy  went  up  and  up,  till  he  disap- 
peared from  view.  The  smoke  from  the  herbs  smoul- 
dering in  the  braziers  seemed  almost  to  blot  out  the 
courtyard  from  view.  The  juggler,  professing  him- 
self angry  with  the  boy  for  his  dilatoriness,  started 
in  pursuit  of  him  up  this  rope,  hanging  on  nothing. 
He  was  kodaked,  too.  Finally  the  man  descended 
the  rope,  and  wiped  a  blood-stained  knife,  explain- 
ing that  he  had  killed  the  boy  for  disobeying  his  or- 
ders. He  then  pulled  the  rope  down  and  coiled  it 
up,  and  suddenly  the  boy  reappeared,  and  together 
with  his  master,  began  salaaming  profoundly.  The 
trick  was  over. 

The  two  Europeans  returned  home  absolutely  mys- 
tified. With  their  own  eyes  they  had  seen  the  impos- 
sible, the  incredible.  Then  Colonel  Barnard  went 
into  his  dark  room  and  developed  his  negatives,  with 
an  astounding  result.  Neither  the  juggler,  nor  the 
boy,  nor  the  rope  had  moved  at  all.  The  photographs 
of  the  ascending  rope,  of  the  boy  climbing  it,  and  of 
the  man  following  him,  were  simply  blanks,  showing 
the  details  of  the  courtyard  and  nothing  else.  Noth- 
ing whatever  had  happened,  but  how,  in  the  name  of 
all  that  is  wonderful  had  the  impression  been  con- 
veyed to  two  hard-headed,  matter-of-fact  English- 
men? Possibly  the  braziers  contained  cunning  prepa- 
rations of  hemp  or  opium,  unknown  to  European 


58    HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

science,  or  may  have  been  burning  some  more  subtle 
brain-stealer ;  possibly  the  deep  salaams  of  the  juggler 
masked  hypnotic  passes,  but  somehow  he  had  forced 
two  Europeans  to  see  what  he  wished  them  to  see. 

On  one  occasion  in  Colombo,  in  Ceylon,  there  was 
an  unrehearsed  episode  in  a  juggler's  performance. 
I  was  seated  on  the  verandah  of  the  Grand  Oriental 
Hotel  which  was  crowded  with  French  passengers 
from  an  outward-bound  Messageries  boat  which  had 
arrived  that  morning.  A  snake-charmer  was  showing 
off  his  tricks  and  reaping  a  rich  harvest.  The  juggler 
went  round  with  his  collecting  bowl,  leaving  his  per- 
forming cobras  in  their  basket.  One  cobra,  probably 
devoid  of  the  artistic  temperament,  or  finding  stage- 
life  uncongenial  to  him,  hungered  for  freedom,  and, 
leaving  his  basket,  glided  swiftly  on  to  the  crowded 
verandah.  He  certainly  occupied  the  middle  of  the 
stage  at  that  moment  and  had  the  "spot-light"  full  on 
him,  for  every  eye  was  riveted  on  the  snake,  and  never 
was  such  a  scene  of  consternation  witnessed.  Every 
one  jumped  on  to  the  tables,  women  fainted  and 
screamed,  and  the  Frenchmen,  for  some  unknown  rea- 
son, all  drew  their  revolvers.  It  turned  out  after- 
wards that  the  performing  cobras  had  all  had  their 
poison-fangs  drawn,  and  were  consequently  harmless. 

Its  inhabitants  declare  that  Ceylon  is  the  most  beau- 
tiful island  in  the  world.  Those  who  have  seen  Ja- 
maica will,  I  think,  dispute  this  claim,  though  Kandy, 
nestling  round  its  pretty  little  lake,  and  surrounded 
by  low  hills,  is  one  of  the  loveliest  spots  imaginable. 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE     59 

It  is  also  the  most  snake-infested  spot  I  ever  set 
foot  in. 

The  Colonial  Secretary,  Sir  Hugh  Clifford,  whom 
I  had  previously  met  in  Trinidad,  had  succeeded  with 
some  difficulty  in  persuading  a  band  of  "Devil  Dan- 
cers" to  leave  their  jungle  fastnesses,  and  to  give  an 
exhibition  of  their  uncanny  dances  in  his  garden ;  for, 
as  a  rule,  these  people  dislike  any  Europeans  seeing 
them  engaged  in  their  mysterious  rites.  The  Colonial 
Secretary's  dining-room  was  as  picturesque  in  its 
setting  as  any  stage  scene.  The  room  was  surrounded 
with  open  arches,  through  which  peeped  the  blue- 
velvet  night  sky  and  dim  silhouettes  of  unfamiliar 
tropical  growths;  in  the  place  of  electric  or  mechani- 
cal punkahs,  a  tall  red-and-gold  clad  Cingalee  stood 
behind  every  guest  waving  continuously  a  long- 
handled,  painted  palm-leaf  fan.  The  simultaneous 
rhythmic  motion  of  the  fans  recalled  the  temple  scene 
at  the  end  of  the  first  Act  of  A'ida.  We  found  the 
"Devil  Dancers"  grouped  in  the  garden,  some  thirty 
in  number.  The  men  were  all  short  and  very  dark- 
skinned;  they  wore  a  species  of  kilt  made  of  narrow 
strips  of  some  white  metal,  which  clashed  furiously 
when  they  moved.  Their  legs  and  chests  were  naked 
except  for  festoons  of  white  shells  worn  necklace- 
wise.  On  their  heads  they  had  curious  helmets  of 
white  metal,  branching  into  antlers,  and  these  head- 
dresses were  covered  with  loose,  jangling,  metallic 
strips.  The  men  had  their  faces,  limbs,  and  bodies 
painted  in  white  arabesques,  which,  against  the  dark 
skins,  effectually  destroyed  any  likeness  to  human 


60  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

beings.  It  would  be  difficult  to  conceive  of  anything 
more  uncanny  and  less  human  than  the  appearance 
of  these  Devil  Dancers  as  they  stood  against  a  back- 
ground of  palms  in  the  black  night,  their  painted  faces 
lit  up  by  the  flickering  glare  of  smoky  torches.  As 
soon  as  the  raucous  horns  blared  out  and  the  tom- 
toms began  throbbing  in  their  maddening,  syncopated 
rhythm,  the  pandemonium  that  ensued,  when  thirty 
men,  whirling  themselves  in  circles  with  a  prodigious 
clatter  of  metals,  began  shrieking  like  devils  possessed, 
as  they  leaped  into  the  air,  was  quite  sufficient  to  ac- 
count for  the  terror  of  the  Cingalee  servants,  who  ran 
and  hid  themselves,  convinced  that  they  were  face  to 
face  with  real  demons  escaped  from  the  Pit. 

Like  all  Oriental  performances  it  was  far  too  long. 
The  dancers  shrieked  and  whirled  themselves  into  a 
state  of  hysteria,  and  would  have  continued  dancing 
all  night,  had  they  not  been  summarily  dismissed.  As 
far  as  I  could  make  out,  this  was  less  of  an  attempt 
to  propitiate  local  devils  than  an  endeavour  to  frighten 
them  away  by  sheer  terror.  It  was  unquestionably 
a  horribly  uncanny  performance,  what  with  the  white 
streaked  faces  and  limbs,  and  the  clang  of  the  metal 
dresses;  the  surroundings,  too,  added  to  the  weird, 
unearthly  effect,  the  dark  moonless  night,  the  dim 
masses  of  forest  closing  in  on  the  garden,  and  the  un- 
certain flare  of  the  resinous  torches. 

Amongst  others  invited  to  see  the  Devil  Dancers 
was  a  French  traveller,  a  M.  Des  Etangs,  a  singu- 
larly cultivated  man,  who  had  just  made  a  tour  of  all 
the  French  possessions  in  India.  M.  Des  Etangs  was 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  61 

full  of  curiosity  about  the  so-called  "Sacred  Tooth" 
of  Buddha,  which  is  enshrined  in  the  "Temple  of  the 
Tooth,"  and  makes  Kandy  a  peculiarly  sacred  place 
to  the  Buddhist  world. 

The  temple,  a  small  but  very  picturesque  building, 
overhangs  the  lake,  and  is  surrounded  by  a  moat,  full 
of  the  fattest  carp  and  tortoises  I  ever  saw.  Every 
pilgrim  to  the  shrine  throws  rice  to  these  carp,  and 
the  unfortunate  fish  have  grown  to  such  aldermanic 
amplitude  of  outline  that  they  can  only  just  waddle, 
rather  than  swim,  through  the  water. 

The  Buddhist  community  must  be  of  a  most  accom- 
modating temperament.  The  original  tooth  of  Bud- 
dha was  brought  to  Ceylon  in  A.D.  411.  It  was  cap- 
tured about  1315  and  taken  to  India,  but  was  even- 
tually restored  to  Kandy.  The  Portuguese  captured 
it  again  in  1560,  burnt  it,  and  ground  it  to  powder, 
but  the  resourceful  Vikrama  Bahu  at  once  manufac- 
tured a  new  tooth  out  of  a  piece  of  ivory,  and  the 
Buddhists  readily  accepted  this  false  tooth  as  a  worthy 
successor  to  the  real  one,  extended  the  same  veneration 
to  it  as  they  did  to  its  predecessor,  and,  more  impor- 
tant than  all,  increased  rather  than  diminished  their 
offerings  to  the  "Temple  of  the  Tooth." 

M.  Des  E  tangs  had  the  whole  history  of  the  tooth 
at  his  ringers'  end,  and  Sir  Hugh  Clifford,  who  as 
Colonial  Secretary  was  the  official  protector  of  the 
tooth,  very  kindly  offered  to  have  it  uncovered  for  us 
in  two  days'  time.  He  added  that  the  priests  were 
by  no  means  averse  to  receiving  such  an  official  order, 
for  they  would  telegraph  the  news  all  over  the  island, 


62  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

and  thousands  of  pilgrims  would  arrive  to  view  the 
exposed  tooth,  each  one,  of  course,  leaving  an  offer- 
ing, to  the  great  benefit  of  the  temple. 

Sir  Hugh  invited  M.  Des  Etangs,  the  late  General 
Oliphant  and  myself  to  be  present  at  the  uncovering, 
which  had  to  take  place  at  seven  in  the  morning,  in 
order  to  afford  a  sufficiently  long  day  for  the  exposi- 
tion. He  implored  us  all,  in  view  of  the  immense 
veneration  with  which  the  Buddhists  regarded  the 
ceremony  of  the  uncovering,  to  keep  perfectly  serious, 
and  to  adopt  a  becoming  attitude  of  respect,  and  he 
begged  us  all  to  give  a  slight  bow  when  the  Buddhists 
made  their  prostrations. 

Accordingly,  two  days  later  at  7  a.m.,  M.  Des 
Etangs,  General  Oliphant  and  I  found  ourselves  in 
a  lower  room  of  the  temple,  the  actual  sanctuary  of 
the  tooth  itself,  into  which  Christians  are  not  generally 
admitted.  We  were,  of  course,  the  only  Europeans 
present. 

Never  have  I  felt  anything  like  the  heat  of  that 
sanctuary.  We  dripped  and  poured  with  perspira- 
tion. The  room  was  entirely  lined  with  copper,  walls 
and  roof  alike,  and  the  closed  shutters  were  also  cop- 
per-sheathed. Every  scrap  of  light  and  air  was  ex- 
cluded; there  must  have  been  at  least  two  hundred 
candles  alight,  the  place  was  thick  with  incense  and 
heavy  with  the  overpowering  scent  of  the  frangipani, 
or  "temple-flower"  as  it  is  called  in  Ceylon,  which  lay 
in  piled  white  heaps  on  silver  dishes  all  round  the 
room.  The  place  was  crowded  with  priests  and  lead- 
ing Buddhists,  and  we  Europeans  panted  and  gasped 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  63 

for  air  in  that  stifling,  over-scented  atmosphere.  Pres- 
ently the  Hereditary  Keeper  of  the  Tooth,  who  was 
not  a  priest  but  the  lineal  descendant  of  the  old  Kings 
of  Kandy,  knelt  down  and  recited  a  long  prayer.  At 
its  conclusion  eight  men  staggered  across. the  room, 
bearing  a  vast  bell-shaped  shrine  of  copper  about 
seven  feet  high.  This  was  the  outer  case  of  the  tooth. 
The  Hereditary  Keeper  produced  an  archaic  key,  and 
the  outer  case  was  unlocked.  The  eight  men  shuffled 
off  with  their  heavy  burden,  and  the  next  covering,  a 
much  smaller,  bell-shaped  case  of  gold,  stood  revealed. 
All  the  natives  present  prostrated  themselves,  and 
we,  in  accordance  with  our  orders,  bowed  our  heads. 
This  was  repeated  six  times,  the  cases  growing  richer 
and  more  heavily  jewelled  as  we  approached  the  final 
one.  The  seventh  case  was  composed  entirely  of  cut 
rubies  and  diamonds,  a  shimmering  and  beautiful 
piece  of  work,  presented  by  the  Buddhists  of  Bur- 
mah,  but  made,  oddly  enough,  in  Bond  Street,  W.I. 

When  opened,  this  disclosed  the  largest  emerald 
known,  carved  into  the  shape  of  a  Buddha,  and  this 
emerald  Buddha  held  the  tooth  in  his  hand.  After 
prolonged  prostrations,  the  Hereditary  Keeper  took 
a  lotus-flower,  beautifully  fashioned  out  of  pure  gold 
without  alloy,  and  placed  the  tooth  in  it,  on  a  little 
altar  heaped  with  frangipani  flowers.  The  uncov- 
ering was  over;  we  three  Europeans  left  the  room  in 
a  half -fainting  condition,  gasping  for  air,  suffocated 
with  the  terrific  heat,  and  stifled  with  the  heavy  per- 
fumes. 

The  octagonal  tower  over  the  lake,  familiar  to  all 


64    HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

visitors  to  Kandy,  contains  the  finest  Buddhist  theo- 
logical library  in  the  world.  The  books  are  all  in 
manuscript,  each  one  encased  in  a  lacquer  box,  though 
the  bookcases  themselves  containing  these  treasures 
were  supplied  by  a  well-known  firm  in  the  Tottenham 
Court  Road. 

1  A  singularly  intelligent  young  priest,  speaking 
English  perfectly,  showed  me  the  most  exquisitely  il- 
luminated old  Chinese  manuscripts,  as  well  as  treat- 
ises in  ten  other  Oriental  languages,  which  only  made 
me  deplore  my  ignorance,  since  I  was  unable  to  read 
a  word  of  any  of  them.  The  illuminations,  though, 
struck  me  as  fully  equal  to  the  finest  fourteenth-cen- 
tury European  work  in  their  extreme  minuteness  and 
wonderful  delicacy  of  detail.  The  young  priest,  whom 
I  should  suspect  of  being  what  is  termed  in  ecclesias- 
tical circles  "a  sj>ike,"  was  evidently  very  familiar 
with  the  Liturgy  of  the  Church  of  England,  but  it 
came  with  somewhat  of  a  shock  to  hear  him  apply  to 
Buddha  terms  which  we  are  accustomed  to  use  in  a 
different  connection. 

The  material  prosperity  of  Ceylon  is  due  to  tea  and 
rubber,  and  the  admirable  Public  Works  of  the  col- 
ony, roads,  bridges  and  railways,  seem  to  indicate 
that  these  two  commodities  produce  a  satisfactory 
budget.  During  the  Kandy  cricket  week  young 
planters  trooped  into  the  place  by  hundreds.  Plant- 
ers are  divided  locally  into  three  categories :  the  man- 
agers, "Peria  Dorai,"  or  "big  masters,'*  spoken  of  as 
"P.  D.'s,"  the  assistants,  "Sinna  Dorai,"  or  "little 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  65 

masters,"  labelled  "S.  D.'s,"  and  the  premium-pupils, 
known  as  "creepers." 

Personally  I  am  inclined  to  discredit  the  local  legend 
that  all  male  children  born  of  white  parents  in  Ceylon 
come  into  the  world  with  abnormal  strength  of  the 
right  wrist,  and  a  slight  inherited  callosity  of  the 
left  elbow.  This  is  supposed  to  be  due  to  their  par- 
ents having  rested  their  left  elbows  on  bar-counters 
for  so  many  hours  of  their  lives;  the  development  of 
the  right  wrist  being  attributed  in  the  same  way  to  the 
number  of  glasses  their  fathers  have  lifted  with  it. 
This,  if  authenticated  by  scientific  evidence,  would  be 
an  interesting  example  of  heredity,  but  I  suspect  it 
to  be  an  exaggeration.  The  bar-room  in  the  hotel 
at  Kandy  was  certainly  of  vast  dimensions,  and  was 
continuously  packed  to  overflowing  during  the  cricket 
week,  and  an  unusual  notice  conspicuously  displayed, 
asking  "gentlemen  to  refrain  from  singing1  in  the 
passages  and  bedrooms  at  night,"  seemed  to  hint  that 
undue  conviviality  was  not  unknown  in  the  hotel ;  but 
it  must  be  remembered  that  these  young  fellows  work 
very  hard,  and  lead  most  solitary  existences.  An  as- 
sistant-manager on  a  tea  estate  may  see  no  white  man 
for  weeks  except  his  own  boss,  or  "P.  D.,"  so  it  is 
perfectly  natural  that  when  they  foregather  with  other 
young  Englishmen  of  their  own  age  during  Colombo 
race  week,  or  Kandy  cricket  week,  they  should  grow 
a  little  uproarious,  or  even  at  times  exceed  the  strict 
bounds  of  moderation,  and  small  blame  to  them! 

Ceylon   was   formerly   a   great   coffee-producing 
island,  and  the  introduction  of  tea  culture  only  dates 


from  about  1882.  In  1870  a  fungus  began  attacking 
the  coffee  plantations,  and  in  ten  years  this  fungus 
killed  practically  all  the  coffee  bushes,  and  reduced 
the  planters  to  ruin.  Instead  of  whining  helplessly 
over  their  misfortunes,  the  planters  had  the  energy 
and  enterprise  to  replace  their  ruined  coffee  bushes 
with  tea  shrubs,  and  Ceylon  is  now  one  of  the  most 
important  sources  of  the  world's  tea-supply.  Tea- 
making — by  which  I  do  not  imply  the  throwing  of 
three  spoonfuls  of  dried  leaves  into  a  teapot,  but  the 
transformation  of  the  green  leaf  of  a  camellia  into 
the  familiar  black  spirals  of  our  breakfast-tables — 
is  quite  an  art  in  itself.  The  "tea-maker"  has  to  judge 
when  the  freshly  gathered  leaves  are  sufficiently  with- 
ered for  him  to  begin  the  process,  into  the  complica- 
tions of  which  I  will  not  attempt  to  enter.  I  was 
much  gratified,  both  in  Ceylon  and  Assam,  at  noting 
how  much  of  the  tea-making  machinery  is  manufac- 
tured in  Belfast,  for  though  Ulster  enterprise  is  pro- 
verbial, I  should  never  have  anticipated  it  as  taking 
this  particular  line.  There  is  one  peculiarly  fascinat- 
ing machine  in  which  a  mechanical  pestle,  moving  in 
an  eccentric  orbit,  twists  the  flat  leaf  into  the  familiar 
narrow  crescents  that  we  infuse  daily.  The  tea-plant 
is  a  pretty  little  shrub,  with  its  pale-primrose,  cistus- 
like  flowers,  but  in  appearance  it  cannot  compete  with 
the  coffee  tree,  with  its  beautiful  dark  glossy  foliage, 
its  waxy  white  flowers,  and  brilliant  scarlet  berries. 

Peradeniya  Botanical  Gardens  rank  as  the  second 
finest  in  the  world,  being  only  surpassed  by  those  at 
Buitenzorg  in  Java.  I  had  the  advantage  of  being 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  67 

shown  their  beauties  by  the  curator  himself,  a  most 
learned  man,  and  what  is  by  no  means  a  synonymous 
term,  a  very  interesting  one,  too.  Holding  the  posi- 
tion he  did,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  insist  on  his  na- 
tionality; his  accent  was  still  as  marked  as  though 
he  had  only  left  his  native  Aberdeen  a  week  before. 
He  showed  me  a  tall,  graceful  tree  growing  close  to 
the  entrance,  with  smooth,  whitish  bark,  and  a  family 
resemblance  to  a  beech.  This  was  the  ill-famed  upas 
tree  of  Java,  the  subject  of  so  many  ridiculous  legends. 
The  curator  told  me  that  the  upas  (Antiaris  toxi- 
caria)  was  unquestionably  intensely  poisonous,  juice 
and  bark  alike.  A  scratch  made  on  the  finger  by  the 
bark  might  have  very  serious  results,  and  the  emana- 
tions from  a  newly  lopped-off  branch  would  be  strong 
enough  to  bring  out  a  rash;  equally,  any  one  foolish 
enough  to  drink  the  sap  would  most  certainly  die. 
The  stories  of  the  tree  giving  out  deadly  fumes  had 
no  foundation,  for  the  curator  had  himself  sat  for 
three  hours  under  the  tree  without  experiencing  any 
bad  effects  whatever.  All  the  legends  of  the  upas  tree 
are  based  on  an  account  of  it  by  a  Dr.  Foersch  in  1783. 
This  mendacious  medico  declared  that  no  living  thing 
could  exist  within  fifteen  miles  of  the  tree.  The 
Peradeniya  curator  pointed  out  that  Java  was  a  vol- 
canic island,  and  one  valley  where  the  upas  flourishes 
is  certainly  fatal  to  all  animal  life  owing  to  the  emana- 
tions of  carbonic  acid  gas  escaping  from  fissures  in 
the  soil.  It  was  impossible  to  look  at  this  handsome 
tree  without  some  respect  for  its  powers  of  evil, 
though  I  doubt  if  it  be  more  poisonous  than  the  West 


68  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

Indian  manchineel.  This  latter  insignificant  tree  is 
so  virulently  toxic  that  rain-drops  from  its  leaves  will 
raise  a  blister  on  the  skin. 

Amongst  the  wonders  of  Peradeniya  is  a  magnifi- 
cent avenue  of  talipat  palms,  surely  the  most  majestic 
of  their  family,  though  they  require  intense  heat  to 
develop  their  splendid  crowns  of  leaves. 

Colombo  has  been  called  the  Clapham  Junction  of 
the  East,  for  there  steamship  lines  from  Australia, 
China,  Burmah,  and  the  Dutch  East  Indies  all  meet, 
and  the  most  unexpected  friends  turn  up. 

I  recall  one  arrival  at  Colombo  in  a  Messageries 
Maritimes  boat.  On  board  was  a  most  agreeable 
French  lady  going  out  with  her  children  to  join  her 
husband,  a  French  officer  in  Cochin  China.  I  was 
leaving  the  ship  at  Colombo,  but  induced  the  French 
lady  to  accompany  me  on  shore,  the  children  being 
bribed  with  the  promise  of  a  ride  in  a  "hackery"  or 
trotting-bull  carriage.  None  of  the  party  had  ever 
left  France  before.  As  we  approached  the  landing- 
stage,  which  was,  as  usual,  black  with  baggage-coolies 
waiting  for  a  job,  the  French  children  began  howling 
at  the  top  of  their  voices.  "The  savages !  the  savages ! 
We're  frightened  at  the  savages,"  they  sobbed  in 
French;  "we  want  to  go  back  to  France."  Their 
mother  asked  me  quite  gravely  whether  "the  savages" 
here  were  well-disposed,  as  she  had  heard  that  they 
sometimes  met  strangers  with  a  shower  of  arrows. 
And  this  in  up-to-date,  electric-lighted  Colombo! 
We  might  have  been  Captain  Cook  landing  in 
Tahiti,  instead  of  peaceful  travellers  making  their 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  69 

quiet  way  to  an  hotel  amidst  a  harmless  crowd  of  tip- 
seeking  coolies. 

The  unfamiliar  is  often  unnecessarily  alarming. 

I  remember  a  small  ten-year-old  white  Bermudian 
boy  who  accompanied  his  father  to  England  for  King 
George's  coronation.  The  boy  had  never  before  left 
his  cedar-clad,  sunlit  native  archipelago,  and  after  the 
ship  had  passed  the  Needles,  and  was  making  her  way 
up  the  Solent,  he  looked  with  immense  interest  at  this 
strange  land  which  had  suddenly  appeared  after  three 
thousand  miles  of  water.  All  houses  in  Bermuda  are 
whitewashed,  and  their  owners  are  obliged  by  law  to 
whitewash  their  coral  roofs  as  well.  Bermuda,  too, 
is  covered  with  low  cedar-scrub  of  very  sombre  hue, 
and  there  are  no  tall  trees.  The  boy,  a  very  sharp 
little  fellow,  was  astonished  at  the  red-brick  of  the 
houses  on  the  Isle  of  Wight,  and  at  their  red-tile  or 
dark  slate  roofs,  and  was  also  much  impressed  by  the 
big  oaks  and  lofty  elms.  Finally  he  turned  to  his 
father  as  the  ship  was  passing  Cowes:  "Do  you  mean 
to  tell  me,  Daddy,  that  the  people  living  in  these 
queer  houses  in  this  odd  country  are  really  human 
beings  like  us,  and  that  they  actually  have  human 
feelings  like  you  and  me?" 


CHAPTER  III 

Frenchmen  pleasant  travelling  companions — The  limitations — 
Vicomte  de  Vogue,  the  innkeeper  and  the  Ikon — An  early 
oil-burning  steamer — A  modern  Bluebeard — His  "Blue 
Chamber" — Dupleix — His  ambitious  scheme — A  disastrous 
period  for  France — A  personal  appreciation  of  the  Emperor 
Nicholas  II — A  learned  but  versatile  Orientalist — Pidgin 
English — Hong-Kong — An  ancient  Portuguese  city  in  China 
— Duck  junks — A  comical  Marathon  race — Canton — Its 
fascination  and  its  appalling  smells — The  malevolent 
Chinese  devils — Precautions  adopted  against — "Foreign 
Devils" — The  fortunate  limitations  of  Chinese  devils — The 
City  of  the  Dead — A  business  interview. 

M.  DES  ETANGS,  the  French  traveller  to  whom  I  have 
already  alluded,  agreed  to  accompany  me  to  the  Far 
East,  an  arrangement  which  I  welcomed,  for  he  was 
a  very  cultivated  and  interesting  man.  Unexpectedly 
he  was  detained  in  Ceylon  by  a  business  matter,  so 
I  went  on  alone. 

I  regretted  this,  for  on  two  previous  occasions  I 
had  found  what  a  pleasant  travelling  companion  an 
educated  Frenchman  can  be.  I  do  not  think  that  the 
French,  as  a  rule,  are  either  acute  or  accurate  observ- 
ers. They  are  too  apt  to  start  with  preconceived 
theories  of  their  own ;  anything  which  clashes  with  the 
ideas  that  they  have  already  formed  is  rejected  as 
evidence,  whilst  the  smallest  scrap  of  corroborative 
testimony  is  enlarged  and  distorted  so  that  they  may 
be  enabled  to  justify  triumphantly  their  original 

70 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  71 

proposition,  added  to  which,  Frenchmen  are,  as  a 
rule,  very  poor  linguists.  This,  of  course,  is  speaking 
broadly,  hut  I  fancy  that  the  French  mind  is  very 
definite  and  clear-cut,  yet  rather  lacking  in  receptiv- 
ity. The  French  suffer  from  the  excessive  develop- 
ment of  the  logical  faculty  in  them.  This  same  defi- 
nite quality  in  the  French  language,  whilst  delighting 
hoth  my  ear  and  my  intelligence,  rightly  or  wrongly 
prevents  French  poetry  from  making  any  appeal  to 
me ;  it  is  too  bright  and  sparkling,  there  is  no  mystery 
possible  in  so  clear-cut  a  medium,  added  to  which, 
every  syllable  in  French  having  an  equal  value,  no 
rhythm  is  possible,  and  French  poetry  has  to  rely  on 
rhyme  alone. 

It  is  not  on  the  cloudless  summer  day  that  familiar 
objects  take  on  vague  and  fantastic  shapes;  to  effect 
that,  mists  and  a  rain-veiled  sky  are  wanted.  Then 
distances  are  blotted  out,  and  the  values  of  nearer  ob- 
jects are  transformed  under  the  swirling  drifts  of 
vapour,  and  a  new  dream-world  is  created  under  one's 
very  eyes.  This  is,  perhaps,  merely  the  point  of  view 
of  a  Northerner. 

As  far  back  as  1881,  I  had  made  a  trip  down  the 
Volga  to  Southern  Russia  with  that  most  delightful 
of  men,  the  late  Vicomte  Eugene  Melchior  de  Vogue, 
the  French  Academician  and  man-of -letters.  I  ab- 
solve Vogue  from  the  accusation  of  being  unable  to 
observe  like  the  majority  of  his  compatriots,  nor,  like 
them,  was  he  a  poor  linguist.  He  had  married  a  Rus- 
sian, the  sister  of  General  Anenkoff  of  Central  Asian 
fame;  spoke  Russian  fluently,  and  very  few  things 


72  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

escaped  his  notice.  Though  he  was  much  older  than 
I,  no  more  charming  companion  could  be  imagined. 
A  little  incident  at  Kazan,  on  the  Volga,  amused  me 
enormously.  We  were  staying  at  a  most  indifferent 
hotel  kept  by  a  Frenchman.  The  French  proprietor 
explained  to  us  that  July  was  the  month  during 
which  the  miraculous  Ikon  of  the  Kazan  Madonna 
was  carried  from  house  to  house  by  the  priests.  The 
fees  for  this  varied  from  25  roubles  (then  £2  10*.) 
for  a  short  visit  from  the  Ikon  of  five  minutes,  to 
200  roubles  (£20)  for  the  privilege  of  sheltering  the 
miracle-working  picture  for  an  entire  night.  I  must 
add  that  the  original  Ikon  was  supposed  to  have  been 
dug  up  in  Kazan  in  1597.  In  1612  it  was  removed  to 
Moscow,  and  was  transferred  again  in  1710  to  Petro- 
grad,  where  a  large  and  pretentious  cathedral  was 
built  for  its  reception.  In  1812,  when  Napoleon  cap- 
tured Moscow,  the  Kazan  Madonna  was  hastily  sum- 
moned from  Petrograd,  and  many  Russians  implicitly 
believe  that  the  rout  of  the  French  was  solely  due  to 
this  wonder-working  Ikon.  In  the  meanwhile  the  in- 
habitants of  Kazan  realised  that  a  considerable  finan- 
cial asset  had  left  their  midst,  so  with  commendable 
enterprise  they  had  a  replica  made  of  the  Ikon,  which 
every  one  accepted  as  a  perfectly  satisfactory  substi- 
tute, much  as  the  Cingalees  regarded  their  "Ersatz" 
Buddha's  tooth  at  Kandy  as  fully  equal  to  the  origi- 
nal. The  French  landlord  told  us  that  in  view  of  the 
strong  local  feeling,  he  was  obliged,  in  the  interests  of 
his  business,  to  pay  for  a  visit  from  the  Ikon,  "afin 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  73 

de  faire  marcher  mon  commerce,"  and  he  invited 
Vogue  and  myself  to  be  present  at  the  ceremony. 

Next  day  we  stood  at  the  foot  of  a  small  back- 
staircase  which  had  been  prepared  in  Russian  fashion 
for  the  reception  of  the  Madonna.  Both  the  steps 
and  banisters  of  the  stairs  were  entirely  draped  in 
clean  white  sheets,  to  which  little  sprigs  of  fir  branches 
had  been  attached.  On  a  landing,  also  draped  with 
sheets,  a  little  white-covered  table  with  two  lighted 
candles  was  to  serve  as  a  reposoir  for  the  Ikon.  The 
whole  of  the  hotel  staff — all  Russians — were  present, 
as  well  as  the  frock-coated  landlord.  The  Madonna 
arrived  in  a  gilt  coach-and-four,  a  good  deal  the  worse 
for  wear,  with  a  coachman  and  two  shaggy-headed 
footmen,  all  bareheaded.  The  priests  carried  the 
Madonna  up  to  the  temporary  altar,  and  the  landlord 
advanced  to  pay  his  devotions. 

Now  as  a  Roman  Catholic  he  had  little  respect  for 
an  Ikon  of  the  Eastern  Church,  nor  as  a  Frenchman 
could  he  be  expected  to  entertain  lively  feelings  of 
gratitude  to  a  miracle-working  picture  which  was 
supposed  by  Russians  to  have  brought  about  the  ter- 
rible disasters  to  his  countrymen  in  1812.  Confident 
in  his  knowledge  that  no  one  present,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Vogue  and  myself,  understood  one  word  of 
French,  the  landlord  fairly  let  himself  go. 

Crossing  himself  many  times  after  the  Orthodox 
fashion,  and  making  the  low  prostrations  of  the 
Eastern  Church,  he  began:  "Ah!  vieille  planche 
peinte,  tu  n'as  pas  d'idee  comme  je  me  fiche  de  toi." 
More  low  prostrations,  and  then,  "Et  c'est  toi  vieille 


74  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

croute  qui  imagines  que  tu  as  Chasse  les  Fraiw^ais  de 
ce  pays  en  1812?"  More  strenuous  crossings,  "Ah! 
Zut  alors!  et  re-zut,  et  re-re  zut!  sale  planche!"  which 
may  be  Englished  very  freely  as  "Ah !  you  old  painted 
board,  you  can  have  no  conception  of  what  I  think 
of  you!  Are  you  really  swollen-headed  enough  to 
imagine  that  it  was  you  who  drove  the  French  out 
of  Russia  in  1812?  Yah!  then,  you  ugly  old  daub, 
and  yah!  again!"  The  Russian  staff,  not  understand- 
ing one  word  of  this,  were  much  impressed  by  their 
master's  devotional  behaviour,  but  Vogue  and  I  had 
to  go  into  the  street  and  laugh  for  ten  minutes. 

The  wife  of  a  prominent  official  boarded  the 
steamer  at  some  stopping-place,  with  her  two  daugh- 
ters. They  were  pretentious  folk,  talking  French, 
and  giving  themselves  tremendous  airs.  When  they 
heard  Vogue  and  me  talking  the  same  language,  she 
looked  at  us,  gave  a  sniff,  and  observed  in  a  loud 
voice,  "Evidently  two  French  commercial  travellers !" 
Next  morning  she  ignored  our  salutations.  During 
the  great  heat  of  the  day  she  read  French  aloud  to 
her  daughters,  and  to  my  great  joy  the  book  was  one 
of  Vogue's.  She  enlarged  on  the  beauty  of  the  style 
and  language,  so  I  could  not  help  saying,  "The  author 
will  much  appreciate  your  compliment,  madame,  for 
he  is  sitting  opposite  you.  This  is  M.  de  Vogue  him- 
self." I  need  hardly  say  that  the  under-bred  woman 
overwhelmed  us  with  civilities  after  that. 

The  Volga  steamers  were  then  built  after  the  type 
of  Mississippi  boats,  with  immense  superstructures; 
they  were  the  first  oil-burning  steamers  I  liad  ever 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  75 

seen,  so  I  got  the  Captain's  permission  to  go  down  to 
the  engine-room.  Instead  of  a  grimy  stokehole  full 
of  perspiring  firemen  and  piles  of  coal,  I  found  a 
clean,  white-painted  place  with  one  solitary  but  clean 
man  regulating  polished  taps.  The  Chief  Engineer, 
a  burly,  red-headed,  red-bearded  man,  came  up  and 
began  explaining  things  to  me.  I  could  then  talk 
Russian  quite  fluently,  but  the  technicalities  of  ma- 
rine engineering  were  rather  beyond  me,  and  I  had 
not  the  faintest  idea  of  the  Russian  equivalents  for, 
say,  intermediate  cylinder,  or  slide-valve.  I  stum- 
bled lamely  along  somehow  until  a  small  red-haired 
boy  came  in  and  cried  in  the  strongest  of  Glasgow 
accents,  "Your  tea  is  waiting  on  ye,  feyther." 

It  appeared  that  the  Glasgow  man  had  been  Head 
Engineer  of  the  river  steamboat  company  for  ten 
years,  but  we  had  neither  of  us  detected  the  other's 
nationality. 

On  another  occasion,  whilst  proceeding  to  India  in 
a  Messageries  Maritimes  boat,  I  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  an  M.  Bayol,  a  native  of  Marseilles,  who  had 
been  for  twenty-five  years  in  business  at  Pondicherry, 
the  French  colony  some  150  miles  south  of  Madras. 
M.  Bayol  was  a  typical  "Marius,"  or  Marseillais: 
short,  bald,  bearded  and  rotund  of  stomach.  It  is 
unnecessary  to  add  that  he  talked  twenty  to  the 
dozen,  with  an  immense  amount  of  gesticulation,  and 
that  he  could  work  himself  into  a  frantic  state  of  ex- 
citement over  anything  in  two  minutes.  I  heard  on 
board  that  he  had  the  reputation  of  being  the  shrewd- 
est business  man  in  Southern  India.  He  was  most 


76  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

capital  company,  rolling  out  perpetual  jokes  and 
calembours,  and  bubbling  over  with  exuberant  joie  de 
vivre.  I  think  M.  Bayol  took  a  fancy  to  me  on  ac- 
count of  my  understanding  his  Proven9al-patois, 
for,  as  a  boy,  I  had  learnt  French  in  a  Provencal- 
speaking  district. 

All  Englishmen  are  supposed  in  France  to  suffer 
from  a  mysterious  disease  known  as  "le  spleen."  I 
have  not  the  faintest  idea  of  what  this  means.  The 
spleen  is,  I  believe,  an  internal  organ  whose  functions 
are  very  imperfectly  understood,  still  it  is  an  ac- 
cepted article  of  faith  in  France  that  every  Briton 
is  "devore  de  spleen,"  and  that  this  lamentable  state 
of  things  embitters  his  whole  outlook  on  life,  and  casts 
a  black  shadow  over  his  existence.  When  I  got  to 
know  M.  Bayol  better  during  our  evening  tramps  up 
and  down  the  deck,  he  asked  me  confidentially  what 
remedies  I  adopted  when  "ronge  de  spleen,"  and  how 
I  combated  the  attacks  of  this  deplorable  but  pecu- 
liarly insular  disease,  and  was  clearly  incredulous 
when  I  failed  to  understand  him.  This  amazing  man 
also  told  me  that  he  had  been  married  five  -times.  Not 
one  of  his  first  four  wives  had  been  able  to  withstand 
the  unhealthy  climate  of  Pondicherry  for  more  than 
eighteen  months,  so,  after  the  demise  of  his  fourth 
French  wife,  he  had  married  a  native,  "ne  pouvant 
vivre  seul,  j'ai  tout  bonnement  epouse  une  indigene." 

M.  Bayol  insisted  on  showing  me  the  glories  of 
Pondicherry  himself,  an  offer  which  I,  anxious  to  see 
a  Franco-Indian  town,  readily  accepted.  There  is 
no  harbour  there,  and  owing  to  the  heavy  surf,  the 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  77 

landing  must  be  made  in  a  surf -boat,  a  curious  keel- 
less  craft  built  of  thin  pliant  planks  sewn  together 
with  copper  wire,  which  bobs  about  on  the  surface  of 
the  water  like  a  cork.  At  Pondicherry,  as  in  all 
French  Colonial  possessions,  an  attempt  has  been 
made  to  reproduce  a  little  piece  of  France.  There 
was  the  dusty  "Grande  Place,"  surrounded  with  even 
dustier  trees  and  numerous  cafes;  the  "Cafe  du 
Progres";  the  "Cafe  de  1'Union,"  and  other  stereo- 
typed names  familiar  from  a  hundred  French  towns, 
and  pale-faced  civilians,  with  a  few  officers  in  uniform, 
were  seated  at  the  usual  little  tables  in  front  of  them. 
Everything  was  as  different  as  possible  from  an  aver- 
age Anglo- Indian  cantonment:  even  the  natives 
spoke  French,  or  what  was  intended  to  be  French, 
amongst  themselves.  The  whole  place  had  a  rather 
dejected,  out-at-elbows  appearance,  but  it  atoned  for 
its  diminishing  trade  by  its  amazing  number  of  offi- 
cials. That  little  town  seemed  to  contain  more  bureau- 
crats than  Calcutta,  and  almost  eclipsed  our  own  post- 
war gigantic  official  establishments.  On  arriving  at 
my  French  friend's  house,  the  fifth  Madame  Bayol, 
a  lady  of  dark  chocolate  complexion,  and  numerous 
little  pale  coffee-coloured  Bayols  greeted  their  spouse 
and  father  with  rapturous  shouts  of  delight.  Later 
in  the  day,  M.  Bayol,  drawing  me  on  one  side,  said, 
"We  have  become  friends  on  the  voyage;  I  will  now 
show  you  the  room  which  enshrines  my  most  sacred 
memories,"  and  drawing  a  key  from  his  pocket,  he 
unlocked  a  door,  admitting  me  to  a  very  large  room 
perfectly  bare  and  empty  except  for  four  stripped 


78  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

bedsteads  standing  in  the  centre.  "These,  mon  ami, 
are  the  beds  on  which  my  four  French  wives  breathed 
their  last,  and  this  room  is  very  dear  to  me  in  conse- 
quence," and  the  fat  little  Marseillais  burst  into  tears. 
I  have  no  wish  to  be  unfeeling,  but  I  really  felt  as 
though  I  had  stumbled  undesignedly  upon  some  of 
the  more  intimate  details  connected  with  Blue- 
beard's matrimonial  difficulties,  and  when  M.  Bayol 
began,  the  tears  streaming  down  his  cheeks,  to  give 
me  a  brief  account  of  his  first  wife's  last  moments, 
the  influence  of  this  Bluebeard  chamber  began  assert- 
ing itself,  and  it  was  all  I  could  do  to  refrain  from 
singing  (of  course  very  sympathetically)  the  lines 
from  Offenbach's  Barbe-Bleue  beginning: 

"Ma  premiere  f emme  est  morte 
Que  le  diable  1'emporte !" 

but  on  second  thoughts  I  refrained. 

M.  Bayol's  garden  reminded  me  of  that  of  the  im- 
mortal Tartarin  of  Tarascon,  for  the  only  green 
things  in  it  grew  in  pots,  and  nothing  was  over  four 
inches  high.  The  rest  of  the  garden  consisted  of 
bare,  sun-baked  tracts  of  clay,  intersected  by  gravel 
walks.  I  felt  certain  that  amongst  these  seedlings 
there  must  have  been  a  two-inch  high  specimen  of  the 
Baobab  "1'arbre  geant,"  the  pride  of  Tartarin's  heart, 
the  tree  which,  as  he  explained,  might  under  favour- 
able conditions  grow  200  feet  high.  After  all,  Mar- 
seilles and  Tarascon  are  not  far  apart,  and  their  in- 
habitants are  very  similar  in  temperament. 

I  was  pleased  to  see  a  fine  statue  of  Dupleix  at 
Pondicherry,  for  he  was  a  man  to  whom  scant  justice 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  79 

has  been  done  by  his  compatriots.  Few  people  seem 
to  realise  how  very  nearly  Dupleix  succeeded  in  his 
design  of  building  up  a  great  French  empire  in  India. 
He  arrived  in  India  in  1715,  at  the  age  of  eighteen, 
and  amassed  a  large  fortune  in  legitimate  trade;  he 
became  Administrator  of  Chandernagore,  in  Bengal, 
in  1730,  and  displayed  such  remarkable  ability  in  this 
post  that  in  1741  he  was  appointed  Governor-General 
of  the  French  Indies.  In  1742  war  broke  out  between 
France  and  Britain,  and  at  the  outset  the  French 
arms  were  triumphant.  Madras  surrendered  in  1746 
to  a  powerful  French  fleet  under  La  Bourdonnais,  the 
Governor  of  the  Island  of  Reunion,  and  a  counter- 
attack on  Pondicherry  by  Admiral  Boscawen's  fleet 
in  1748  failed  utterly,  though  the  defence  was  con- 
ducted by  Dupleix,  a  civilian.  These  easy  French 
successes  inspired  Dupleix  with  the  idea  of  establish- 
ing a  vast  French  empire  in  India  on  the  ruins  of  the 
Mogul  monarchy,  but  here  he  was  frustrated  by  the 
military  genius  of  Clive,  who,  it  must  be  remembered, 
started  life  as  a  civilian  "writer"  in  the  East  India 
Company's  service.  Dupleix  encountered  his  first 
check  by  Clive's  dashing  capture  of  Arcot  in  1751. 
From  that  time  the  fortunes  of  war  inclined  with 
ever-increasing  bias  to  the  British  side,  and  the  de- 
cisive battle  of  Plassey  in  1757  (three  years  after 
Dupleix's  return  to  France)  was  a  death-blow  to 
the  French  aspirations  to  become  the  preponderant 
power  in  India. 

Dupleix  was  shabbily  treated  by  France.    He  re- 
ceived but  little  support  from  the  mother  country; 


80  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

the  vast  sums  he  had  expended  from  his  private  re- 
sources in  prosecuting  the  war  were  never  refunded 
to  him;  he  was  consistently  maligned  by  the  jealous 
and  treacherous  La  Bourdonnais,  and  after  his  recall 
to  France  in  1754  his  services  to  his  country  were 
never  recognised,  and  he  died  in  poverty. 

G.  B.  Malleson's  Dupleix  is  a  most  impartial  and 
interesting  account  of  this  remarkable  man's  life:  it 
has  been  translated  into  French  and  is  accepted  by  the 
French  as  an  accurate  text-book. 

The  whole  reign  of  Louis  XV.  was  a  supremely  dis- 
astrous period  for  French  Colonial  aspirations.  Not 
only  did  the  dream  of  a  great  French  empire  in  the 
East  crumble  away  just  as  it  seemed  on  the  very  point 
of  realisation,  but  after  Wolfe's  victory  on  the 
Heights  of  Abraham  at  Quebec,  Canada  was  formally 
ceded  by  France  to  Britain  in  1763,  by  the  Treaty 
of  Paris. 

This  ill  fortune  pursued  France  into  the  succeed- 
ing reign  of  Louis  XVI.,  for  in  April,  1782,  Rodney's 
great  victory  over  Count  de  Grasse  off  Dominica 
transferred  the  Lesser  Antilles  from  French  to 
British  suzerainty. 

The  same  sort  of  blight  seemed  to  hang  over 
France  during  Louis  XV.'s  reign,  as  overshadowed 
the  Russia  of  the  ill-starred  Nicholas  II.  Nothing 
could  possibly  go  right  with  either  of  them,  and  it 
may  be  that  the  prime  causes  were  the  same:  the  as- 
sumption of  absolute  power  by  an  irresolute  monarch, 
lacking  the  intellectual  equipment  which  alone  would 
enable  him  to  justify  his  claims  to  supreme  power — 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  81 

though  I  hasten  to  disclaim  any  comparison  between 
these  two  rulers. 

Between  Louis  XV.,  vicious,  selfish  and  incapable, 
always  tied  to  the  petticoat  and  caprices  of  some  new 
mistress,  and  the  unfortunate  Nicholas  II.,  well- 
intentioned,  and  almost  fanatically  religious,  the  af- 
fectionate father  and  the  devoted  husband,  no  com- 
parison is  possible,  except  as  regards  their  .limitations 
for  the  supreme  positions  they  occupied. 

I  have  recounted  elsewhere  how,  when  Nicholas  II. 
visited  India  as  Heir  Apparent  in  1890, 1  saw  a  great 
deal  of  him,  for  he  stayed  ten  days  with  my  brother- 
in-law,  Lord  Lansdpwne,  at  Calcutta  and  Barrack- 
pore,  and  I  was  brought  into  daily  contact  with  him. 
The  Czarevitch,  as  he  then  was,  had  a  very  high 
standard  of  duty,  though  his  intellectual  equipment 
was  but  moderate.  He  had  a  perfect  craze  about  rail- 
way development,  and  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that 
that  stupendous  undertaking,  the  Trans- Siberian 
Railway,  was  entirely  due  to  his  initiative.  At  the 
time  of  his  visit  to  India,  Nicholas  II.  was  obsessed 
with  the  idea  that  the  relations  between  Great  Britain 
and  Russia  would  never  really  improve  until  the  Rus- 
sian railways  were  linked  up  with  the  British-Indian 
system,  a  proposition  which  responsible  Indian  Offi- 
cials viewed  with  a  marked  lack  of  enthusiasm.  The 
Czarevitch  was  courteous,  gentle  and  sincere,  but 
though  full  of  good  intentions,  he  was  fatally  incon- 
stant of  purpose,  and  his  mental  endowments  were 
insufficient  for  the  tremendous  responsibilities  to 
which  he  was  to  succeed,  and  in  that  one  fact  lies  the 


82  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

pathos  of  the  story  of  this  most  unfortunate  of 
monarchs. 

To  return  from  the  eighteenth  to  the  twentieth 
century,  and  from  the  disastrous  collapse  of  the 
French  Colonial  Empire  to  my  own  infinitely  trivial 
personal  experiences,  I  regretted  the  business  which 
had  detained  M.  Des  Etangs  in  Ceylon,  and  deprived 
me  of  the  company  of  so  agreeable  and  cultivated  a 
man-of -the- world . 

There  was  a  Dr.  Munro  on  board  the  liner.  Dr. 
Munro,  at  that  time  Principal  of  a  Calcutta  College 
is,  I  believe,  one  of  the  greatest  Oriental  scholars 
living.  On  going  into  the  smoking-room  of  the 
steamer  one  morning,  I  found  the  genial  rotund  little 
Professor  at  work  with  an  exquisitely  illuminated 
Chinese  manuscript  before  him.  He  explained  to  me 
that  it  was  a  very  interesting  Chinese  document  of  the 
twelfth  century,  and  that  he  was  translating  it  into 
Arabic  for  the  benefit  of  his  pupils.  The  amazing 
erudition  of  a  man  who  could  translate  off-hand  an 
ancient  Chinese  manuscript  into  Arabic,  without  the 
aid  of  dictionaries  or  of  any  works  of  reference, 
amidst  all  the  hubbub  of  the  smoking-room  of  an 
ocean  liner,  left  me  fairly  gasping.  Dr.  Munro  had 
acquired  his  Oriental  languages  at  the  University  of 
St.  Petersburg,  so,  in  addition  to  his  other  attain- 
ments, he  spoke  Russian  as  fluently  as  English. 

There  was  another  side  to  this  merry  little  Pro- 
fessor. We  had  on  board  the  vivacious  and  tuneful 
Miss  Grace  Palotta,  who  was  making  a  concert -tour 
round  the  world.  Miss  Palotta,  whose  charming 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  83 

personality  will  be  remembered  by  the  frequenters 
of  the  old  Gaiety  Theatre,  was  a  Viennese  by  birth, 
and  she  sang  those  tuneful,  airy  little  Viennese  songs, 
known  as  "Wiener  Couplets,"  to  perfection.  She 
readily  consented  to  give  a  concert  on  board,  but  said 
she  must  be  sustained  by  a  chorus.  Dr.  Munro  him- 
self selected,  trained  and  led  the  chorus ;  whilst  I  had 
to  replace  Miss  Palotta's  accompanist  who  was  pros- 
trate with  sea-sickness. 

And  so  the  big  liner  crept  on  slowly  into  steaming, 
oily,  pale-green  seas,  gliding  between  vividly  green 
islands  in  the  orchid-house  temperature  of  the  Malay 
Peninsula,  a  part  of  the  world  worth  visiting,  if  only 
to  eat  the  supremely  delicious  mangosteen,  though 
even  an  unlimited  diet  of  this  luscious  fruit  would 
hardly  reconcile  the  average  person  to  a  perpetual 
steam  bath,  and  to  an  intensely  enervating  atmos- 
phere. Nature  must  have  been  in  a  sportive  mood 
when  she  evolved  the  durian.  This  singular  Malay 
fruit  smells  like  all  the  concentrated  drains  of  a  town 
seasoned  with  onions.  One  single  durian  can  poison 
out  a  ship  with  its  hideous  odour,  yet  those  able  to 
overcome  its  revolting  smell  declare  the  flavour  of 
the  fruit  to  be  absolutely  delicious. 

It  is  a  little  humiliating  for  a  middle-aged  gentle- 
man to  find  that  on  arriving  in  China  he  is  expected 
to  revert  to  the  language  of  the  nursery,  and  that  he 
must  request  his  Chinese  servant  to  "go  catchee  me 
one  piecee  cuppee  tea."  On  board  the  Admiral's 
yacht,  it  required  a  little  reflection  before  the  intima- 
tion that  "bleakfast  belong  leady  top-side"  could  be 


84.  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

translated  into  the  information  that  breakfast  was 
ready  on  deck.  Why  adding  "ee"  to  every  word 
should  render  it  more  intelligible  to  the  Celestial  un- 
derstanding, beats  me.  There  are  people  who  think 
that  by  tacking  "O"  on  to  every  English  word  they 
render  themselves  perfectly  clear  to  Italians  and 
Spaniards,  though  this  theory  seems  hardly  justified 
by  results.  "Pidgin  English,"  of  course,  merely 
means  "business  English,"  and  has  been  evolved  as  an 
easy  means  of  communication  for  business  purposes 
between  Europeans  and  Chinamen.  The  Governor 
of  Hong-Kong's  Chinese  secretary  prided  himself  on 
his  accurate  and  correct  English.  I  heard  the  Gov- 
ernor ask  this  secretary  one  day  where  a  certain  re- 
port was.  "I  placed  it  in  the  second  business-hole  on 
your  Excellency's  desk,"  answered  Mr.  Wung  Ho, 
who  evidently  considered  it  very  vulgar  to  use  the 
term  "pigeon-hole." 

Considering  that  eighty  years  ago,  when  it  was 
first  ceded  to  Britain,  Hong-Kong  was  a  barren,  tree- 
less, granite  island,  it  really  is  an  astonishing  place. 
It  is  easily  the  handsomest  modern  city  in  Asia,  has  a 
population  of  400,000,  and  is  by  a  long  way  the  busi- 
est port  in  the  world.  It  is  an  exceedingly  pretty 
place,  too,  with  its  rows  of  fine  European  houses  rising 
in  terraces  out  of  a  sea  of  greenery,  and  it  absolutely 
hums  with  prosperity.  If  Colombo  is  the  Clapham 
Junction,  Hong-Kong  is  certainly  the  Crewe  of  the 
East,  for  steamship  lines  to  every  part  of  the  world 
are  concentrated  here.  With  the  exception  of  racing 
ponies,  there  is  not  one  horse  on  the  island. 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  85 

Macao,  the  old  Portuguese  colony,  is  only  forty 
miles  from  Hong-Kong.  The  arrangements  on  the 
river  steamers  are  rather  peculiar,  for  only  European 
passengers  are  allowed  on  the  spar  deck.  All  Chinese 
passengers,  of  whatever  degree,  have  to  descend  to 
the  lower  decks,  which  are  enclosed  with  strong  steel 
bars.  Before  the  ship  starts  the  iron  gates  of  com- 
munication are  shut  and  padlocked,  so  that  all  Chinese 
passengers  are  literally  enclosed  in  a  steel  cage,  shut 
off  alike  from  the  upper  deck  and  the  engine-room. 
These  precautions  were  absolutely  necessary,  for  time 
and  time  again  gangs  of  river-pirates  have  come  on 
board  these  steamers  in  the  guise  of  harmless  passen- 
gers ;  at  a  pre-arranged  signal  they  have  overpowered 
and  murdered  the  white  officers,  thrown  the  Chinese 
passengers  overboard  and  then  made  off  with  the  ship 
and  her  cargo.  An  arms-rack  of  rifles  on  the  Euro- 
pean deck  told  its  own  story. 

Macao  has  belonged  to  Portugal  since  1555.  Its 
harbour  has  silted  up,  and  its  once  flourishing  trade 
has  dwindled  to  nothing.  Gambling  houses  are  the 
only  industry  of  the  place.  There  are  row  and  rows 
of  these  opposite  the  steamer  landing,  all  kept  by 
Chinamen,  garish  with  coloured  electric  lights,  each 
one  clamorously  proclaiming  that  it  is  the  "only  first- 
class  gambling  house  in  Macao."  A  crowded  special 
steamer  leaves  Hong-Kong  every  Sunday  morning 
for  Macao,  for  the  special  purpose  of  affording  the 
European  community  an  opportunity  to  leave  most 
of  their  excess  profits  in  the  pockets  of  the  Chinese 
proprietors  of  these  places.  The  Captain  and  Chief 


Engineer  of  the  boat,  who,  it  is  almost  superfluous 
to  add,  were  of  course  both  Clyde  men,  like  good  Scots 
deplored  this  Sabbath-breaking;  but  like  equally  good 
Scots  they  admitted  how  very  lucrative  the  Sunday 
traffic  was  to  the  steamboat  company,  and  I  gathered 
that  they  both  got  a  commission  on  this. 

The  old  town  of  Macao  is  a  piece  of  sixteenth  and 
seventeenth  century  Portugal  transplanted  into 
China.  It  is  wonderful  to  find  a  southern  European 
town  complete  with  cathedral,  "pracas,"  fountains, 
and  statues,  dumped  down  in  the  Far  East.  The 
place,  too,  is  as  picturesque  as  a  scene  from  an 
opera,  and  China  is  the  last  spot  where  one  would 
expect  to  find  lingering  traces  of  Gothic  influence  in 
carved  doorways  and  other  architectural  details.  As 
far  as  externals  went  Camoens,  the  great  Portuguese 
poet,  can  scarcely  have  realised  his  exile  during  the 
two  years,  1556-1558,  of  his  banishment  to  Macao. 
He  most  creditably  utilised  this  period  of  enforced 
rest  by  writing  The  Lusiads,  a  poem  which  his  coun- 
trymen are  inclined  to  overrate.  All  the  familiar  char- 
acteristics of  an  old  Portuguese  town  are  met  with 
here,  the  blue  and  pink  colour-washed  houses,  an 
ample  sufficiency  of  ornate  churches,  public  fountains 
everywhere,  and  every  shop-sign  and  notice  is  written 
in  Portuguese,  including  the  interminable  Portuguese 
street  names.  The  only  thing  lacking  seemed  the  in- 
habitants. I  presume  the  town  must  have  some 
inhabitants,  but  I  did  not  see  a  single  one.  Possibly 
they  were  taking  their  siestas,  or  were  shut  up  in 
their  houses,  meditating  on  the  bygone  glories  of 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  87 

Portugal,  tempered  with  regrets  that  they  had  neg- 
lected to  dredge  their  harbour. 

Admiral  Sir  Hedworth  Meux,  the  Naval  Com- 
mander-in- Chief  in  the  Pacific,  who  happens  to  be  my 
sister's  son,  told  me  that  he  was  sending  a  destroyer 
for  three  or  four  days  up  the  Canton  River,  on  special 
service,  and  asked  if  I  would  care  to  go,  and  I  natu- 
rally accepted  the  offer.  The  Admiral  did  not  go 
up  himself,  but  sent  his  Flag-Captain  and  Flag- 
Lieutenant.  The  marshy  banks  of  the  Canton  River 
are  lined  with  interminable  paddy-fields,  for,  as  every 
one  knows,  rice  is  a  crop  that  must  be  grown  under 
water.  After  the  rice  harvest,  these  swampy  fields  are 
naturally  full  of  fallen  grain,  and  thrifty  John  China- 
man feeds  immense  flocks  of  ducks  on  the  stubbles  of 
the  paddy-fields.  The  ducks  are  brought  down  by 
thousands  in  junks,  and  quack  and  gobble  to  their 
hearts'  content  in  the  fields  all  day,  waddling  back 
over  a  plank  to  their  junks  at  night.  At  sunset,  one 
of  the  most  comical  sights  in  the  world  can  be  wit- 
nessed. A  Chinese  boy  comes  ashore  from  each  junk 
with  a  horn,  which  he  blows  as  a  signal  to  the  ducks 
that  bedtime  has  arrived.  In  his  other  hand  the  boy 
has  a  rattan  cane,  with  which  he  administers  a  tre- 
mendous thrashing  to  the  last  ten  ducks  to  arrive  on 
board.  The  ducks  know  this,  and  in  that  singular 
country  their  progenitors  have  probably  been 
thrashed  in  the  same  way  for  a  thousand  years,  so 
they  all  have  an  inherited  sense  of  the  dangers  of  the 
corporal  punishment  threatening  them.  As  soon  as 
the  horn  sounds,  thousands  of  ducks  start  the  maddest 


88  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

of  Marathon  races  back  to  their  respective  junks, 
which  they  never  mistake,  with  such  a  quacking  and 
gobbling  and  pushing  of  each  other  aside,  as  the  un- 
gainly fowls  waddle  along  at  the  top  of  their  speed, 
as  must  be  witnessed  to  be  credited.  The  duck  has 
many  advantages :  in  his  wild  state,  his  extreme  wari- 
ness and  his  powerful  flight  make  him  a  splendid 
sporting  bird,  and  when  dead  he  has  most  estimable 
qualities  after  a  brief  sojourn  in  the  kitchen.  Do- 
mesticated, though  he  can  scarcely  be  classed  as  a 
dainty  feeder,  he  makes  a  strong  appeal  to  some  peo- 
ple, especially  after  he  has  contracted  an  intimate 
alliance  with  sage  and  onions,  but  he  was  never  in- 
tended by  Nature  for  a  sprinter,  nor  are  his  webbed 
feet  adapted  for  rapid  locomotion.  Sufferers  from 
chronic  melancholia  would,  I  am  sure,  benefit  by  wit- 
nessing the  nightly  football  scrums  and  speed-contests 
of  these  Chinese  ducks,  for  I  defy  any  one  to  see  them 
without  becoming  helpless  with  laughter. 

The  river  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Canton  is  so 
covered  with  junks,  sampans,  and  other  craft,  that, 
in  comparison  to  it,  the  Thames  at  Henley  during 
regatta  week  would  look  like  a  deserted  waste  of 
water.  One  misses  at  Canton  the  decorative  war- 
junks  of  the  Shanghai  River.  These  war- junks, 
though  perfectly  useless  either  for  defence  or  attack, 
are  gorgeous  objects  to  the  eye,  with  their  carving, 
their  scarlet  lacquer  and  profuse  gilding.  A  Chinese 
stern-wheeler  is  a  quaint  craft,  for  her  wheel  is  noth- 
ing but  a  treadmill,  manned  by  some  thirty  half -naked 
coolies,  who  go  through  a  regular  treadmill  drill, 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  89 

urging  the  boat  along  at  perhaps  three  miles  an  hour. 
In  addition  to  their  deck  passengers,  these  boats  have 
rows  of  little  covered  niches  for  superior  personages, 
and  in  every  niche  sits  a  grave,  motionless  Chinaman, 
looking  for  all  the  world  like  those  carved  Chinese 
cabinets  we  sometimes  see,  with  a  little  porcelain  fig- 
ure squatting  in  each  carved  compartment. 

We  had  a  naval  interpreter  on  board,  a  jovial, 
hearty,  immensely  fat  old  Chinaman.  Our  destroyer 
had  four  funnels,  but  as  we  were  going  up  the  river 
under  easy  steam,  only  the  forward  boilers  were 
going,  so  that  whilst  our  two  forward  funnels, 
"Matthew"  and  "Mark,"  were  smoking  bravely,  the 
two  after  ones,  "Luke"  and  "John,"  were  unsullied 
by  the  faintest  wisp  of  a  smoke  pennant  trailing  from 
their  black  orifices.  Our  old  interpreter  was  much 
distressed  at  this,  for,  as  far  as  I  could  judge,  his 
countrymen  gauged  a  vessel's  fighting  power  solely 
by  the  amount  of  smoke  that  she  emitted,  and  he 
feared  that  we  should  be  regarded  with  but  scanty 
respect. 

The  British  and  French  Consulate-Generals  at 
Canton  are  situated  on  a  large  artificial  island,  known 
as  Sha-mien.  Here,  too,  the  European  business  men 
live  in  the  most  comfortable  Europe-like  houses,  sur- 
rounded with  gardens  and  lawn-tennis  courts.  Here 
is  the  cricket-ground  and  the  club.  Being  in  the  Far 
East,  the  latter  is,  of  course,  equipped  with  one  of  the 
most  gigantic  bar-rooms  ever  seen.  The  British 
Consul-General  had  ordered  chairs  for  us  in  which 
to  be  carried  through  the  city,  as  it  would  be  deroga- 


90  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

tory  to  the  dignity  of  a  European  to  be  seen  walking 
on  foot  in  a  Chinese  town.  Our  business  with  the 
Consul-General  finished,  we  started  on  our  tour  of 
inspection,  the  party  consisting  of  the  Flag-Captain, 
the  Flag-Lieutenant,  the  interpreter  and  myself,  to- 
gether with  a  small  midshipman,  who,  being  anxious 
to  see  Canton,  had  somehow  managed  to  get  three 
days'  leave  and  to  smuggle  himself  on  board  the  de- 
stroyer. The  Consul-General  warned  us  that  the 
smells  in  the  native  city  would  be  unspeakably  ap- 
palling, and  advised  us  to  smoke  continuously,  very 
kindly  presenting  each  of  us  with  a  handful  of  mild 
Borneo  cheroots. 

The  canal  separating  Sha-mien  from  the  city  is  100 
feet  broad,  but  I  doubt  if  anywhere  else  in  the  world 
100  feet  separates  the  centuries  as  that  canal  does, 
On  the  one  side,  green  lawns,  gardens,  trees,  and  a 
very  fair  imitation  of  Europe.  A  few  steps  over  a 
fortified  bridge,  guarded  by  Indian  soldiers  and  In- 
dian policemen,  and  you  are  in  the  China  of  a  thou- 
sand years  ago,  absolutely  unchanged,  except  for  the 
introduction  of  electric  light  and  telephones.  The 
English  manager  of  the  Canton  Electric  Co.  told  me 
that  the  natives  were  wonderfully  adroit  at  stealing 
current.  One  would  not  imagine  John  Chinaman  an 
expert  electrician,  yet  these  people  managed  some- 
how to  tap  the  electric  mains,  and  the  manager  esti- 
mated the  weekly  loss  on  stolen  power  as  about  £500. 

No  street  in  Canton  is  wider  than  eight  feet,  and 
many  of  them  are  only  five  feet  broad.  They  are 
densely  packed  with  yellow  humanity,  though  there 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  91 

is  no  wheeled  traffic  whatever.  There  are  countless 
miles  of  these  narrow,  stifling  alleys,  paved  with 
rough  granite  slabs,  under  which  festers  the  sewage 
of  centuries.  The  smells  are  unbelievably  hideous. 
Except  for  an  occasional  canal,  a  reeking  open  sewer, 
there  are  no  open  spaces  whatever.  And  yet  these 
narrow  alleys  of  two-storied  houses  are  marvellously 
picturesque,  with  coloured  streamers  and  coloured 
lanterns  drooping  from  every  house  and  shop,  and  the 
shops  themselves  are  a  joy  to  the  eye.  They  are  en- 
tirely open  to  the  street  in  front,  but  in  the  far  dim 
recesses  of  every  one  there  is  a  species  of  carved  rere- 
dos,  over  which  dragons,  lacquered  black,  or  lacquered 
red,  gilded  or  silvered,  sprawl  artistically.  In  front 
of  this  screen  there  is  always  a  red-covered  joss  table, 
where  red  lights  burn,  and  incense-sticks  smoulder, 
all  of  which,  as  shall  be  explained  later,  are  precau- 
tions to  thwart  the  machinations  of  the  peculiarly 
malevolent  local  devils.  In  food  shops,  hideous  and 
obscene  entrails  of  unknown  animals  gape  repellently 
on  the  stranger,  together  with  strings  and  strings  of 
dried  rats,  and  other  horrible  comestibles;  in  every 
street  the  yellow  population  seems  denser  and  denser, 
the  colour  more  brilliant  and  the  smells  more  sicken- 
ing. We  could  not  have  stood  it  but  for  the  thought- 
ful Consul-General's  Borneo  cigars,  though  the  small 
midshipman,  being  still  of  tender  years,  was  brought 
to  public  and  ignominious  disaster  by  his  second 
cheroot.  After  two  hours  of  slow  progress  in  carry- 
ing-chairs, through  this  congeries  of  narrow,  unsa- 
voury alleys,  now  jostled  by  coolies  carrying  bales  of 


92  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

merchandise  suspended  from  long  bamboos  resting  on 
their  shoulders  ( exactly  as  they  did  in  the  pictures  of 
a  book,  called  Far  Off,  which  I  had  as  a  child),  now 
pushed  on  one  side  by  the  palanquin  of  a  mandarin, 
we  hungered  for  fresh  air  and  open  spaces,  less 
crowded  by  yellow  oblique-eyed  Mongolians;  still, 
though  we  all  felt  as  though  we  were  in  a  nightmare, 
we  had  none  of  us  ever  seen  anything  like  it,  and  in 
spite  of  our  declarations  that  we  never  wished  to  see 
this  evil-smelling  warren  of  humanity  again,  somehow 
its  uncanny  fascination  laid  hold  of  us,  and  we  started 
again  over  the  same  route  next  morning.  The  small 
midshipman  had  to  be  restrained  from  indulging  in 
his  yearning  to  dine  off  puppy-dog  in  a  Chinese  res- 
taurant, in  spite  of  the  gastric  disturbances  occasioned 
by  his  precocious  experiments  with  cheroots. 

I  imagine  that  every  Chinaman  liable  to  zymotic 
diseases  died  thousands  of  years  ago,  and  that  by  the 
law  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest  all  Chinamen  born 
now  are  immune  from  filth  diseases;  that  they  can 
drink  sewage-water  with  impunity,  and  thrive  under 
conditions  which  would  kill  any  Europeans  in  a  week. 

The  inhabitants  of  Canton  are,  I  believe,  mostly 
Taoists  by  religion,  but  their  lives  are  embittered  by 
their  constant  struggles  with  the  local  devils.  Most 
fortunately  Chinese  devils  have  their  marked  limita- 
tions ;  for  instance,  they  cannot  go  round  a  corner,  and 
most  mercifully  they  suffer  from  constitutional  timid- 
ity, and  can  be  easily  frightened  away  by  fire-crack- 
ers. Human  beings  inhabiting  countries  subject  to 
pests,  have  usually  managed  to  cope  with  them  by 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  93 

adopting  counter-measures.  In  mosquito-ridden 
countries  people  sleep  under  mosquito-nets,  thus 
baffling  those  nocturnal  blood-suckers;  in  parts  of 
Ceylon  infested  with  snakes,  sharpened  zig-zag  snake- 
boards  are  fastened  to  the  window-sills,  which  prove 
extremely  painful  to  intruding  reptiles.  The  Chinese, 
as  a  safeguard  against  their  devils,  have  adopted  the 
peculiar  "cocked  hat"  corner  to  their  roofs,  which  we 
see  reproduced  in  so  much  of  Chippendale's  work. 
It  is  obvious  that,  with  an  ordinary  roof,  any  ill- 
disposed  devil  would  summon  some  of  his  fellows,  and 
they  would  fly  up,  get  their  shoulders  under  the  cor- 
ner of  the  eaves,  and  prise  the  roof  off  in  no  time. 
With  the  peculiar  Chinese  upward  curve  of  the  cor- 
ners, the  devils  are  unable  to  get  sufficient  leverage, 
and  so  retire  discomfited.  Most  luckily,  too,  they  de- 
test the  smell  of  incense-sticks,  and  cannot  abide  the 
colour  red,  which  is  as  distasteful  to  them  as  it  is  to 
a  bull,  but  though  it  moves  the  latter  to  fury,  it  only 
inspires  the  devils  with  an  abject  terror.  Accordingly, 
any  prudent  man  can,  by  an  abundant  display  of  red 
silk  streamers,  and  a  plentiful  burning  of  joss-sticks, 
keep  his  house  practically  free  from  these  pests.  A 
rich  Chinaman  who  has  built  himself  a  new  house,  will 
at  once  erect  a  high  wall  immediately  in  front  of  it. 
It  obstructs  the  light  and  keeps  out  the  air,  but  owing 
to  the  inability  of  Chinese  devils  to  go  round  corners  it 
renders  the  house  as  good  as  devil-proof. 

We  returned  after  dark  from  our  second  visit  to 
the  city.  However  much  the  narrow  streets  may  have 
offended  the  nose,  they  unquestionably  gratified  the 


94  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

eye  with  the  endless  vista  of  paper  lanterns,  all  softly 
aglow  with  crimson,  green,  and  blue,  as  the  place 
reverberated  with  the  incessant  banging  of  fire- 
crackers. The  families  of  the  shopkeepers  were  all 
seated  at  their  supper-tables  (for  the  Chinese  are  the 
only  Orientals  who  use  chairs  and  tables  as  we  do) 
in  the  front  portions  of  the  shop.  As  women  are 
segregated  in  China,  only  the  fathers  and  sons  were 
present  at  this  simple  evening  meal  of  sewage-fed  fish, 
stewed  rat  and  broiled  dog,  but  never  for  one  instant 
did  they  relax  their  vigilance  against  possible  attacks 
by  their  invisible  foes.  It  is  clear  that  an  intelligent 
devil  would  select  this  very  moment,  when  every  one 
was  absorbed  in  the  pleasures  of  the  table,  to  pene- 
trate into  the  shop,  where  he  could  play  havoc  with  the 
stock  before  being  discovered  and  ejected.  Accord- 
ingly, little  Ping  Pong,  the  youngest  son,  had  to  wait 
for  his  supper,  and  was  sent  into  the  street  with  a 
large  packet  of  fire-crackers  to  scare  devils  from  the 
vicinity,  and  if  little  Ping  Pong  was  like  other  small 
boys,  he  must  have  hugely  enjoyed  making  such  an 
appalling  din.  Every  single  shop  had  a  stone  pedes- 
tal before  it,  on  which  a  lamp  was  burning,  for  experi- 
ence has  shown  how  useful  a  deterrent  this  is  to  any 
but  the  most  abandoned  devils ;  they  will  at  once  pass 
on  to  a  shop  unprotected  by  a  guardian  light. 

We  had  been  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city  that  day, 
and  I  was  much  struck  with  an  example  of  Chinese 
ingenuity.  The  suburban  inhabitants  all  seem  to  keep 
poultry,  and  all  these  fowls  were  of  the  same  breed — 
small  white  bantams.  So,  to  identify  his  own  prop- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  95 

erty,  Ching  Wan  dyed  all  his  chickens'  tails  orange, 
whilst  Hung  To's  fowls  scratched  about  with  mauve 
tails,  and  Kyang  Foo's  hens  gave  themselves  great 
airs  on  the  strength  of  their  crimson  tail  feathers. 

It  is  curious  that,  in  spite  of  its  wealth  and  huge 
population,  Canton  should  contain  no  fine  temples. 
The  much-talked-of  Five-Storied  Pagoda  is  really 
hardly  worth  visiting,  except  for  the  splendid  pano- 
rama over  the  city  obtained  from  its  top  floor. 
Canton  here  appears  like  one  endless  sea  of  brown 
roofs  extending  almost  to  the  horizon.  The  brown 
sea  of  roof  appears  to  be  quite  unbroken,  for,  from 
that  height,  the  narrow  alleys  of  street  disappear  en- 
tirely. We  were  taken  to  a  large  temple  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  city.  It  was  certainly  very  big,  also  very 
dirty  and  ill-kept.  Compared  with  the  splendid  tem- 
ples of  Nikko  in  Japan,  glowing  with  scarlet  and 
black  lacquer,  and  gleaming  with  gold,  temples  on 
which  cunning  craftsmanship  of  wood-carving,  enam- 
els and  bronze-work  has  been  lavished  in  almost  super- 
fluous profusion,  or  even  with  the  severer  but  digni- 
fied temples  of  unpainted  cryptomeria  wood  at 
Kyoto,  this  Chinese  pagoda  was  scarcely  worth  look- 
ing at.  It  had  the  usual  three  courts,  an  outer,  mid- 
dle, and  inner  one,  and  in  the  middle  court  a  number 
of  students  were  seated  on  benches.  I  am  afraid  that 
I  rather  puzzled  our  fat  Chinese  interpreter  by  in- 
quiring of  him  whether  these  were  the  local  Benchers 
of  the  Middle  Temple. 

The  Chinese  dislike  to  foreigners  is  well  known,  so 
is  the  term  "foreign  devils,"  which  is  applied  to  them. 


96  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

Our  small  party  met  with  a  most  hostile  reception 
that  day  in  one  part  of  the  city,  and  the  crowd  were 
very  menacing  until  addressed  by  our  fat  old  inter- 
preter. The  reason  of  this  is  very  simple.  Chinamen 
have  invariably  chocolate-coloured  eyes,  so  the  great 
distorted  wooden  figures  of  devils  so  commonly  seen 
outside  temple  gates  are  always  painted  with  light 
eyes,  in  order  to  give  them  an  inhuman  and  unearthly 
appearance  to  Chinese  minds.  It  so  happened  that 
the  Flag-Captain,  the  Flag-Lieutenant,  the  midship- 
man and  myself,  had  all  four  of  us  light-coloured  eyes, 
either  grey  or  blue,  the  colour  associated  with  devils, 
in  the  Chinese  intelligence.  We  were  unquestionably 
foreigners,  so  the  primd  facie  evidence  of  satanic 
origin  against  us  was  certainly  strong.  We  ourselves 
would  be  prejudiced  against  an  individual  with  bright 
magenta  eyes,  and  we  might  be  tempted  to  associate 
every  kind  of  evil  tendency  with  his  abnormal  colour- 
ing; to  the  Chinese,  grey  eyes  must  appear  just  as 
unnatural  as  magenta  eyes  would  to  us.  We  were 
inclined  to  attribute  the  hostile  demonstration  to  the 
small  snottie,  who,  in  spite  of  warnings,  had  again 
experimented  with  cheroots.  His  unbecoming  pallor 
would  have  naturally  predisposed  a  Chinese  crowd 
against  us. 

The  feeling  of  utter  helplessness  in  a  country  where 
one  is  unable  to  speak  one  word  of  the  language  is 
most  exasperating.  My  youngest  brother,  who  is 
chairman  of  a  steamship  company,  had  occasion  to  go 
to  the  Near  East  nine  years  ago  on  business  connected 
with  his  company.  The  steamer  called  at  the  Piraeus 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  97 

for  eight  hours,  and  my  brother,  who  had  never  been 
in  Athens,  took  a  taxi  and  saw  as  much  of  "the  city 
of  the  violet  crown"  as  was  possible  in  the  time.  He 
could  speak  no  modern  Greek,  but  when  the  taxi-man, 
on  their  return  to  the  Piraeus,  demanded  by  signs  =£7 
as  his  fare,  my  brother,  hot  with  indignation  at  such 
an  imposition,  summoned  up  all  his  memories  of  the 
Greek  Testament,  and  addressed  the  chauffeur  as 
follows:  "<&  Ta&av6pwirf,  ^  yevoirol"  Stupefied  at  hearing 
the  classic  language  of  his  country,  the  taxi-man  at 
once  became  more  reasonable  in  his  demands.  After 
this,  who  will  dare  to  assert  that  there  are  no  advan- 
tages in  a  classical  education? 

All  the  hillsides  round  Chinese  cities  are  dotted 
with  curious  stone  erections  in  the  shape  of  horseshoes. 
These  are  the  tombs  of  wealthy  Chinamen ;  the  points 
of  the  compass  they  face,  and  the  period  which  must 
elapse  before  the  deceased  can  be  permanently  buried, 
are  all  determined  by  the  family  astrologers,  for 
Chinese  devils  can  be  as  malignant  to  the  dead  as  to 
the  living,  though  they  seem  to  reserve  their  animosi- 
ties for  the  more  opulent  of  the  population. 

It  is  to  meet  the  delay  of  years  which  sometimes 
elapses  between  the  death  of  a  person  and  his  perma- 
nent burial,  that  the  "City  of  the  Dead"  exists  in* 
Canton.  This  is  not  a  cemetery,  but  a  collection  of 
nearly  a  thousand  mortuary  chapels.  The  "City  of 
the  Dead"  is  the  pleasantest  spot  in  that  nightmare 
city.  A  place  of  great  open  sunlit  spaces,  and  streets 
of  clean  white-washed  mortuaries,  sweet  with  masses 
of  growing  flowers.  After  the  fetid  stench  of  the 


98  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

narrow,  airless  streets,  the  fresh  air  and  sunlight  of 
this  "City  of  the  Dead"  were  most  refreshing,  and  its 
absolute  silence  was  welcome  after  the  deafening  tur- 
moil of  the  town.  We  were  there  in  spring-time,  and 
hundreds  of  blue-and-white  porcelain  vases,  of  the 
sort  we  use  as  garden  ornaments,  were  gorgeous  with 
flowering  azaleas  of  all  hues,  or  fragrant  with  freesias. 
All  the  mortuaries,  though  of  different  sizes,  were 
built  on  the  same  plan,  in  two  compartments,  sepa- 
rated by  pillars  with  a  carved  wooden  screen  between 
them.  Behind  this  screen  the  cylindrical  lacquered 
coffin  is  placed,  a  most  necessary  precaution,  for 
Chinese  devils  being  fortunately  unable  to  go  round 
a  corner,  the  occupant  of  the  coffin  is  thus  safe  from 
molestation.  Other  elementary  safeguards  are  also 
adopted;  a  red-covered  altar  invariably  stands  in 
front  of  the  screen,  adorned  with  candles  and  artificial 
flowers,  and  incense-sticks  are  perpetually  burning 
on  it.  What  with  the  incense-sticks  and  abundant  red 
silk  streamers,  an  atmosphere  is  created  which  must 
be  thoroughly  uncongenial,  even  to  the  most  irre- 
claimable devil.  The  outer  chapel  always  contains 
two  or  four  large  chairs  for  the  family  to  meditate  in. 
It  must  be  remembered  that  the  favourite  recrea- 
tion of  the  Chinese  is  to  sit  and  meditate  on  the  tombs 
of  their  ancestors,  and  though  in  these  mortuaries 
this  pastime  cannot  be  carried  out  in  its  entirety,  this 
modified  form  is  universally  regarded  as  a  very  satis- 
factory substitute.  In  one  chapel  containing  the  re- 
mains of  the  wife  of  the  Chinese  Ambassador  in 
Rome,  there  was  a  curious  blend  of  East  and  West. 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  99 

Amongst  the  red  streamers  and  joss-sticks  there  were 
metal  wreaths  and  dried  palm  wreaths  inscribed,  "A 
notre  chere  collegue  Madame  Tsin-Kyow" ;  an  unex- 
pected echo  of  European  diplomatic  life  to  find  in 
Canton. 

The  rent  paid  for  these  places  is  very  high,  and  as 
the  length  of  time  which  the  body  must  rest  there 
depends  entirely  upon  the  advice  of  the  astrologers, 
it  is  not  uncharitable  to  suppose  that  there  must  be 
some  understanding  between  them  and  the  proprietor 
of  the  "City  of  the  Dead." 

We  can  even  suppose  some  such  conversation  as 
the  following  between  the  managing- partner  of  a  firm 
of  long-established  family  astrologers  and  that  same 
proprietor: 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Chow  Chung;  I  have  come  to 
you  with  the  melancholy  news  of  the  death  of  our 
esteemed  fellow-citizen,  Hang  Wang  Kai.  A  fine 
man,  and  a  great  loss!  What  I  liked  about  him  was 
that  he  was  such  a  thorough  Chinaman  of  the  good 
old  stamp.  A  wealthy  man,  sir,  a  very  wealthy  man. 
The  family  are  clients  of  mine,  and  they  have  just 
rung  me  up,  asking  me  to  cast  a  horoscope  to  ascer- 
tain the  wishes  of  the  stars  with  regard  to  the  date  of 
burial  of  our  poor  friend.  How  inscrutable  are  the 
decrees  of  the  heavenly  bodies !  They  may  recommend 
the  immediate  interment  of  our  friend:  on  the  other 
hand,  they  may  wish  it  deferred  for  two,  five,  ten,  or 
even  twenty  years,  in  which  case  our  friend  would  be 
one  of  the  fortunate  tenants  of  your  delightful  Gar- 
den of  Repose.  Quite  so.  Casting  a  horoscope  is 


100  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

very  laborious  work,  and  I  can  but  obey  blindly  the 
stars*  behests.  Exactly.  Should  the  stars  recom- 
mend our  poor  friend's  temporary  occupation  of  one 
of  your  attractive  little  Maisonettes,  I  should  expect, 
to  compensate  me  for  my  labours,  a  royalty  of  20  per 
cent,  on  the  gross  (I  emphasize  the  gross)  rental  paid 
by  the  family  for  the  first  two  years.  They,  of  course, 
would  inform  me  of  any  little  sum  you  did  them  the 
honour  to  accept  from  them.  From  two  to  five  years, 
I  should  expect  a  royalty  of  30  per  cent.;  from  five 
to  ten  years,  40  per  cent. ;  on  any  period  over  ten  years 
50  per  cent.  Yes,  I  said  fifty.  Surely  I  do  not  un- 
derstand you  to  dissent?  The  stars  may  save  us  all 
trouble  by  advising  Hang  Wang  Kai's  immediate 
interment.  Thank  you.  I  thought  that  you  would 
agree.  These  terms,  of  course,  are  only  for  the 
Chinese  and  Colonial  rights ;  I  must  expressly  reserve 
the  American  rights,  for,  as  I  need  hardly  remind 
you,  the  Philippine  Islands  are  now  United  States 
territory,  and  the  constellations  mm)  recommend  the 
temporary  transfer  of  our  poor  friend  to  American 
soil.  Thank  you;  I  thought  that  we  should  agree. 
It  only  remains  for  me  to  instruct  my  agents,  Messrs. 
Ap  Wang  &  Son,  to  draw  up  an  agreement  in  t]je 
ordinary  form  on  the  royalty  basis  I  have  indicated, 
for  our  joint  signature.  The  returns  will,  I  presume, 
be  made  up  as  usual,  to  March  31  and  September  30. 
As  I  am  far  too  upset  by  the  loss  of  our  friend  to  be 
able  to  talk  business,  I  will  now,  with  your  permission, 
withdraw." 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE   101 

Had  I  been  born  a  citizen  of  Canton,  I  should 
unquestionably  have  articled  my  son  to  an  astrologer, 
convinced  that  I  was  securing  for  him  an  assured  and 
lucrative  future. 


CHAPTER  IV 

The  glamour  of  the  West  Indies — Captain  Marryat  and  Michael 
Scott — Deadly  climate  of  the  islands  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury— The  West  Indian  planters — Difference  between  East 
and  West  Indies — "Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we 
die" — Training-school  for  British  Navy — A  fruitless  voyage 
— Quarantine — Distant  view  of  Barbados — Father  Labat — 
The  last  of  the  Emperors  of  Byzantium — Delightful  little 
Lady  Nugent  and  her  diary  of  1802 — Her  impressions  of 
Jamaica — Wealthy  planters — Their  hideous  gormandising — • 
A  simple  morning  meal — An  aldermanic  dinner — How  the 
little  Nugents  were  gorged — Haiti — Attempts  of  General  Le 
Clerc  to  secure  British  intervention  in  Haiti — Presents  to 
Lady  Nugent — Her  Paris  dresses  described — Our  arrival  in 
Jamaica — Its  marvellous  beauty — The  bewildered  Guards- 
man— Little  trace  of  Spain  left  in  Jamaica — The  Spaniards 
as  builders — British  and  Spanish  Colonial  methods  con- 
trasted. 

SINCE  the  earliest  days  of  my  boyhood,  the  West 
Indies  have  exercised  a  quite  irresistible  fascination 
over  me.  This  was  probably  due  to  my  having  read 
and  re-read  Peter  Simple  and  Tom,  Cringle's  Log 
over  and  over  again,  until  I  knew  them  almost  by 
heart;  indeed  I  will  confess  that  even  at  the  present 
day  the  glamour  of  these  books  is  almost  as  strong 
as  it  used  to  be,  and  that  hardly  a  year  passes  without 
my  thumbing  once  again  their  familiar  pages.  Both 
Captain  Marryat  and  Michael  Scott  knew  their  West 
Indies  well,  for  Marryat  had  served  on  the  station  in 
either  1813  or  1814,  and  Michael  Scott  lived  for  six- 
teen years  in  Jamaica,  from  1806  to  1822,  at  first  as 
manager  of  a  sugar  estate,  and  then  as  a  merchant 
in  Kingston.  Marryat  and  Scott  were  practically 

102 


contemporaries,  though  the  former  was  the  younger 
by  three  years,  being  born  in  1792.  I  am  told  that 
now-a-days  boys  care  for  neither  of  these  books;  if 
so,  the  loss  is  theirs.  What  attracted  me  in  these 
authors'  West  Indian  pictures  was  the  fact  that  here 
was  a  community  of  British-born  people  living  a 
reckless,  rollicking,  Charles  Lever-like  sort  of  life 
in  a  most  deadly  climate,  thousands  of  miles  from 
home,  apparently  equally  indifferent  to  earthquakes, 
hurricanes,  or  yellow  fever,  for  at  the  beginning  of 
the  twentieth  century  no  one  who  has  not  read  the 
Colonial  records,  or  visited  West  Indian  churches, 
can  form  the  faintest  idea  of  the  awful  ravages  of 
yellow  fever,  nor  of  the  vast  amount  of  victims  this 
appalling  scourge  claimed.  Now,  improved  sanita- 
tion and  the  knowledge  that  the  yellow  death  is  car- 
ried by  the  Stegomyia  mosquito,  with  the  precaution- 
ary methods  suggested  by  that  knowledge,  have  al- 
most entirely  eliminated  yellow  fever  from  the  West 
India  islands;  but  in  Marryat  and  Scott's  time  to  be 
ordered  to  the  West  Indies  was  looked  upon  as  equiva- 
lent to  a  death  sentence.  Yet  every  writer  enlarges 
upon  the  exquisite  beauty  of  these  green,  sun-kissed 
islands,  and  regrets  bitterly  that  so  enchanting  an 
earthly  paradise  should  be  the  very  ante-room  of 
death. 

In  spite  of  the  unhealthy  climate,  in  the  days  when 
King  Sugar  reigned  undisputed,  the  owners  of  sugar 
estates,  attracted  by  the  enormous  fortunes  then  to 
be  made,  and  fully  alive  to  the  fact  that  in  the  case  of 
absentee  proprietors  profits  tended  to  go  everywhere 


104  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

except  into  the  owners'  pockets,  deliberately  braved 
the  climate,  settled  down  for  life  (usually  a  brief 
one)  in  either  Jamaica  or  Barbados,  built  themselves 
sumptuous  houses,  stocked  with  silver  plate  and  rare 
wines,  and  held  high  and  continual  revel  until  such 
time  as  Yellow  Jack  should  claim  them.  In  the 
East  Indies  the  soldiers  and  Civil  Servants  of  "John 
Company,"  and  the  merchant  community,  "shook  the 
pagoda  tree"  until  they  had  accumulated  sufficient 
fortunes  on  which  to  retire,  when  they  returned  to 
England  with  yellow  faces  and  torpid  livers,  grum- 
bling like  Jos  Sedley  to  the  ends  of  their  lives  about 
the  cold,  and  the  carelessness  of  English  cooks  in 
preparing  curries,  and  harbouring  unending  regrets 
for  the  flesh-pots  and  comforts  of  life  in  Boggley 
Wollah,  which  in  retrospect  no  doubt  appeared  more 
attractive  than  they  had  done  in  reality.  The  Wesf 
Indian,  on  the  other  hand,  settled  down  permanently 
with  his  wife  and  family  in  the  island  of  his  choice. 
Barbados  and  Jamaica  are  the  only  two  tropical  coun- 
tries under  the  British  flag  where  there  was  a  resident 
white  gentry  born  and  bred  in  the  country,  with  coun- 
try places  handed  down  from  father  to  son.  In  these 
two  islands  not  one  word  of  any  language  but  Eng- 
lish was  ever  to  be  heard  from  either  black  or  white. 
The  English  parochial  system  had  been  transplanted 
bodily,  and  successfully,  with  guardians  and  overseers 
complete ;  in  a  word,  they  were  colonies  in  the  strictest 
sense  of  the  word;  transplanted  portions  of  the 
motherland,  with  most  of  its  institutions,  dumped 
down  into  the  Caribbean  Sea,  but  blighted  until  1834 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  105 

by  the  curse  of  negro  slavery.  It  was  this  overseas 
England,  set  amidst  the  most  enchanting  tropical 
scenery  and  vegetation,  that  I  was  so  anxious  to  see. 
Michael  Scott,  both  in  Tom  Cringle  and  The  Cruise 
of  the  Midge,  gave  the  most  alluring  pictures  of 
Creole  society  (a  Creole  does  not  mean  a  coloured 
person;  any  one  born  in  the  West  Indies  of  pure  white 
parents  is  a  Creole) ;  they  certainly  seemed  to  get 
drunk  more  than  was  necessary,  yet  the  impression 
left  on  one's  mind  was  not  unlike  that  produced  by 
the  purely  fictitious  Ireland  of  Charles  Lever's  novels : 
one  continual  round  of  junketing,  feasting,  and  prac- 
tical jokes;  and  what  gave  the  pictures  additional 
piquancy  was  the  knowledge  that  death  was  all  the 
while  peeping  round  the  corner,  and  that  Yellow  Jack 
might  at  any  moment  touch  one  of  these  light-hearted 
revellers  with  his  burning  finger-tips. 

Lady  Nugent,  wife  of  Sir  George  Nugent,  Gov- 
ernor of  Jamaica  from  1801  to  1806,  kept  a  volumi- 
nous diary  during  her  stay  in  the  island,  and  most  ex- 
cellent reading  it  makes.  She  was  thus  rather  anterior 
in  date  to  Michael  Scott,  but  their  descriptions  tally 
very  closely.  I  shall  have  a  good  deal  to  say  about 
Lady  Nugent. 

The  West  Indies  make  an  appeal  of  a  different 
nature  to  all  Britons.  They  were  the  training-ground 
and  school  of  all  the  great  British  Admirals  from 
Drake  to  Nelson.  Benbow  died  of  his  wounds  at  Port 
Royal  in  Jamaica,  and  was  buried  in  Kingston  Parish 
Church  in  1702,  whilst  Rodney's  memory  is  still  so 
cherished  by  West  Indians,  white  and  coloured  alike, 


that  serious  riots  broke  out  when  his  statue  was  re- 
moved from  Spanish  Town  to  Kingston,  and  his  effigy 
had  eventually  to  be  placed  in  the  memorial  temple 
which  grateful  Spanish  Town  erected  to  commem- 
orate his  great  victory  over  de  Grasse  off  Dominica 
on  April  12,  1782,  as  the  result  of  which  the  Lesser 
Antilles  remained  British  instead  of  French.  For  all 
these  reasons  I  had  experienced,  since  the  age  of 
thirteen,  an  intense  longing  to  see  these  lovely  islands 
with  all  their  historic  associations. 

In  1884  I  travelled  from  Buenos  Ayres  to  Canada 
in  a  tramp  steamer  simply  and  solely  because  she  was 
advertised  to  call  at  Barbados  and  Jamaica.  Never 
shall  I  forget  my  first  night  in  that  tramp.  I  soon 
became  conscious  of  uninvited  guests  in  my  bunk,  so, 
striking  a  light  (strictly  against  rules  in  the  ships  of 
those  days),  I  discovered  regiments  and  army  corps 
of  noisome,  crawling  vermin  marching  in  serried  ranks 
into  my  bunk  under  the  impression  that  it  was  their 
parade  ground.  For  the  remainder  of  the  voyage  I 
slept  on  the  saloon  table,  a  hard  but  cleanly  couch. 
We  lay  for  a  week  at  Rio  de  Janeiro  loading  coffee, 
and  we  touched  at  Bahia  and  at  Pernambuco.  At 
this  latter  place  as  at  Rio  an  epidemic  of  yellow  fever 
was  raging,  so  we  had  not  got  a  clean  bill-of -health. 
As  the  blunt-nosed  tramp  pushed  her  leisurely  way 
northward  through  the  oily  ultra-marine  expanse  of 
tropical  seas,  I  thought  longingly  of  the  green  island 
for  which  we  were  heading.  We  reached  Carlisle  Bay, 
Barbados,  at  daybreak  on  a  glorious  June  morning, 
and  waited  impatiently  in  the  roadstead  (there  is  no 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  107 

harbour  in  Barbados)  for  the  liberating  visit  of  the 
medical  officer  from  the  shore.  He  arrived,  gave  one 
glance  at  our  bill-of -health,  and  sternly  refused  pra- 
tique,, so  the  hateful  yellow  flag  remained  fluttering 
at  the  fore  in  the  Trade  wind,  announcing  to  all  and 
sundry  that  we  were  cut  off  from  all  communication 
with  the  shore.  Never  was  there  a  more  aggravating 
situation !  Barbados,  all  emerald  green  after  the  rainy 
season,  looked  deliciously  enticing  from  the  ship.  The 
"flamboyant"  trees,  Poncimia  Regia,  were  in  full 
bloom,  making  great  patches  of  vivid  scarlet  round  the 
Savannah.  The  houses  and  villas  peeping  out  of 
luxuriant  tangles  of  tropical  vegetation  had  a  delight- 
fully home-like  look  to  eyes  accustomed  for  two  years 
to  South  American  surroundings.  Seen  through  a 
glass  from  the  ship's  deck,  the  Public  Buildings  in 
Trafalgar  Square,  solid  and  substantial,  had  all  the 
unimaginative  neatness  of  any  prosaic  provincial  town- 
hall  at  home.  We  were  clearly  no  longer  in  a  Latin- 
American  country.  It  was  really  a  piece  of  England 
translated  to  the  Caribbean  Sea,  and  we  few  pas- 
sengers, some  of  whom  had  not  seen  England  for 
many  weary  years,  were  forbidden  to  set  foot  on  this 
outpost  of  home.  It  was  most  exasperating;  for  never 
did  any  island  look  more  inviting,  and  surely  such 
dazzling  white  houses,  such  glowing  red  roofs,  such 
vivid  greenery,  and  so  absurdly  blue  a  sea,  had  never 
been  seen  in  conjunction  before.  Barbados  is  almost 
exactly  the  size  of  the  Isle  of  Wight,  but  in  spite  of 
its  restricted  area,  all  the  Barbadians,  both  white 
and  coloured,  have  the  most  exalted  opinion  of  their 


108  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

island,  which  in  those  days  they  lovingly  termed  "Bim- 
shire,"  white  Barbadians  being  then  known  as  "Bims." 
Students  of  Marryat  will  remember  how  Mr.  Apollo 
Johnson,  at  Miss  Betty  Austin's  coloured  "Dignity 
ball,"  declared  that  "All  de  world  fight  against  Eng- 
land, but  England  nebber  fear;  King  George  nebber 
fear  while  Barbados  'tand  'tiff,"  and  something  of 
that  sentiment  persists  still  to-day.  As  a  youngster 
I  used  to  laugh  till  I  cried  at  the  rebuff  administered 
to  Peter  Simple  by  Miss  Minerva  at  the  same  "Dig- 
nity ball."  Peter  was  carving  a  turkey,  and  asked 
his  swarthy  partner  whether  he  might  send  her  a  slice 
of  the  breast.  Shocked  at  such  coarseness,  the  dusky 
but  delicate  damsel  simpered  demurely,  "Sar,  I  take 
a  lily  piece  turkey  bosom,  if  you  please."  Dignity 
balls  are  still  held  in  Barbados;  they  are  rather  trying 
to  one  of  the  senses.  In  the  "eighties"  it  was  a  point 
of  honour  amongst  "Bims"  to  wear  on  all  and  every 
occasion  a  high  black  silk  hat.  During  our  enforced 
quarantine  we  saw  a  number  of  white  Bims  sailing 
little  yachts  about  the  roadstead,  every  single  man  of 
them  crowned  with  a  high  silk  hat,  about  the  most 
uncomfortable  head-gear  imaginable  for  sailing  in. 
Another  agreeable  home-touch  was  to  hear  the  negro 
boatmen  all  talking  to  each  other  in  English.  Their 
speech  may  not  have  been  melodious,  but  it  fell  pleas- 
antly enough  on  ears  accustomed  for  so  long  to  hear 
nothing  but  Spanish.  From  my  intimate  acquaintance 
with  Marryat,  even  the  jargon  of  the  negro  boat- 
men struck  me  with  a  delightful  sense  of  familiarity, 
as  did  the  very  place-names,  Needham  Point  and 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE    109 

Carlisle  Bay.  I  was  fated  not  to  see  Barbados  again 
for  twenty- two  years. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  eighteenth  century  a  French 
missionary,  one  Father  Labat,  visited  Barbados  and 
gave  the  most  glowing  account  of  it  to  his  countrymen. 
According  to  him  the  island  was  brimful  of  wealth, 
and  the  jewellers'  and  silversmiths'  shops  in  Bridge- 
town rivalled  those  of  Paris.  I  should  be  inclined  to 
question  Father  Labat's  strict  veracity.  This  worthy 
priest  declared  that  the  planters  lived  in  sumptuous 
houses,  superbly  furnished,  that  their  dinners  lasted 
four  hours,  and  their  tables  were  crowded  with  gold 
and  silver  plate.  The  statement  as  to  the  length 
of  the  planters'  dinners  is  probably  an  accurate  one, 
for  I  myself  have  been  the  recipient  of  Barbadian 
hospitality,  and  had  never  before  even  imagined  such 
an  endless  procession  of  fish,  flesh,  and  fowl,  not  to 
mention  turtle,  land-crabs,  and  pepper-pot.  West 
Indian  negresses  seem  to  have  a  natural  gift  for  cook- 
ing, though  their  cuisine  is  a  very  highly  spiced  and 
full-flavoured  one. 

Father  Labat's  motive  in  drawing  so  glorified  a  pic- 
ture of  Barbados  peeps  out  at  the  end  of  his  account, 
for  he  drily  remarks  that  the  fortifications  of  the 
island  were  most  inadequate,  and  that  it  could  easily 
be  captured  by  the  French;  he  was  clearly  making 
an  appeal  to  his  countrymen's  cupidity. 

Upon  making  the  acquaintance  of  Bridgetown  some 
twenty  years  after  my  first  quarantine  visit,  I  can 
hardly  endorse  Father  Labat's  opinion  that  the  streets 
are  strikingly  handsome,  for  Bridgetown,  like  most 


110  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

4 

British  West  Indian  towns,  looks  as  though  all  the 
houses  were  built  of  cards  or  paper.  It  is,  however, 
a  bright,  cheery  little  spot,  seems  prosperous  enough, 
and  has  its  own  Trafalgar  Square,  decorated  with  its 
own  very  fine  statue  of  Nelson.  Every  house  both  in 
Jamaica  and  Barbados  is  fitted  with  sash-windows 
in  the  English  style.  This  fidelity  to  the  customs  of 
the  motherland  is  very  touching  but  hardly  practical, 
for  in  the  burning  climate  of  the  West  Indies  every 
available  breath  of  fresh  air  is  welcome.  With  French 
windows,  the  entire  window-space  can  be  opened ;  with 
sashes,  one-half  of  the  window  remains  necessarily 
blocked. 

Let  strangers  beware  of  "Barbados  Green  Bitters." 
It  is  a  most  comforting  local  cocktail,  apparently  quite 
innocuous.  It  is  not;  under  its  silkiness  it  is  abomi- 
nably potent.  One  "green  bitter"  is  food,  two  are 
dangerous. 

In  St.  John's  churchyard,  some  fourteen  miles  from 
Bridgetown,  is  to  be  seen  one  of  the  most  striking  ex- 
amples of  the  vanity  of  human  greatness.  A  stone 
reproduction  of  the  porch  of  a  Greek  temple  bears 
this  inscription, 

HERE  LYETH  YE  BODY  OF 

FERDINANDO  PALEOLOGOS 

DESCENDED  FROM  YE  IMPERIAL  LYNE 

OF  YE  LAST  CHRISTIAN 

EMPERORS  OF  GREECE 

CHURCHWARDEN  OF  THIS  PARISH 

1655  -  1656 

VESTRYMAN  TWENTY  YEARS 
DIED    OCTOBER   3,    1678. 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  111 

Just  think  of  it !  The  last  descendant  of  Constantine, 
the  last  scion  of  the  proud  Emperors  of  Byzantium, 
commemorated  as  vestryman  and  churchwarden  of 
a  country  parish  in  a  little,  unknown  island  in  the 
Caribbean,  only  then  settled  for  seventy-three  years! 
Could  any  preacher  quote  a  more  striking  instance  of 
"sic  transit  gloria  mundi"? 

Codrington  College,  not  far  from  St.  John's  church, 
is  rather  a  surprise.  Few  people  would  expect  to 
come  across  a  little  piece  of  Oxford  in  a  tropical  island, 
or  to  find  a  college  building  over  two  hundred  years 
old  in  Barbados,  complete  with  hall  and  chapel.  The 
facade  of  Codrington  is  modelled  on  either  Queen's 
or  the  New  Buildings  at  Magdalen,  Oxford,  and  the 
college  is  affiliated  to  Durham  University.  Originally 
intended  as  a  place  of  education  for  the  sons  of  white 
planters  it  is  now  wholly  given  over  to  coloured  stu- 
dents. It  can  certainly  claim  the  note  of  the  unex- 
pected, and  the  quiet  eighteenth-century  dignity  of 
its  architecture  is  enhanced  by  the  broad  lake  which 
fronts  it,  and  by  the  exceedingly  pretty  tropical  park 
in  which  it  stands.  Codrington  boasts  some  splendid 
specimens  of  the  "Royal"  palm,  the  Palmiste  of  the 
French,  which  is  one  of  the  glories  of  West  Indian 
scenery. 

Though  Father  Labat  may  have  drawn  the  long- 
bow intentionally,  some  of  the  country  houses  erected 
by  the  sugar  planters  in  the  heyday  of  the  colony's 
riotous  prosperity  are  really  very  fine  indeed,  although 
at  present  they  have  mostly  changed  hands,  or  been 
left  derelict.  Long  Bay  Castle,  now  unoccupied,  is 


112  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

a  most  ambitious  building,  with  marble  stairs,  beauti- 
ful plaster  ceilings,  and  some  of  its  original  Chippen- 
dale furniture  still  remaining.  A  curious  feature  of 
all  these  Barbadian  houses  is  the  hurricane-wing,  built 
of  extra  strength  and  fitted  with  iron  shutters,  into 
which  all  the  family  locked  themselves  when  the  fall 
of  the  barometer  announced  the  approach  of  a  hur- 
ricane. I  was  shown  one  hurricane-wing  which  had 
successfully  withstood  two  centuries  of  these  visita- 
tions. 

Barbados  is  the  only  ugly  island  of  the  West  Indian 
group,  for  every  available  foot  is  planted  with  sugar- 
cane, and  the  unbroken,  undulating  sea  of  green  is 
monotonous.  In  the  hilly  portions,  however,  there 
are  some  very  attractive  bits  of  scenery. 

On  my  first  visit,  as  I  have  already  said,  I  saw 
nothing  of  all  this,  except  through  glasses  from  the 
deck  of  a  tramp.  I  was  also  to  be  denied  a  sight  of 
Jamaica,  for  the  Captain  knew  that  he  would  be  re- 
fused pratique  there,  and  settled  to  steam  direct  to 
the  Danish  island  of  St.  Thomas,  where  quarantine 
regulations  were  less  strict,  so  all  my  voyage  was 
for  nothing. 

Not  for  over  twenty  years  after  was  I  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  Kingston  and  Port  Royal  and  the 
Palisadoes,  all  very  familiar  names  to  me  from  my 
constant  reading  of  Marryat  and  Michael  Scott. 

I  suppose  that  every  one  draws  mental  pictures  of 
places  that  they  have  constantly  heard  about,  and  that 
most  people  have  noticed  how  invariably  the  real  place 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  113 

is  not  only  totally  different  from  the  fancy  picture, 
but  almost  aggressively  so. 

I  have  already  mentioned  Lady  Nugent's  journal 
or  "Jamaica  in  1801."  I  am  persuaded  that  she  must 
have  been  a  most  delightful  little  creature.  She  was 
very  tiny,  as  she  tells  us  herself,  and  had  brown  curly 
hair.  She  was  a  little  coy  about  her  age,  which  she 
confided  to  no  one;  by  her  own  directions,  it  was 
omitted  even  from  her  tombstone,  but  from  internal 
evidence  we  know  that  when  her  husband,  Sir  George 
Nugent,  was  appointed  Governor  of  Jamaica  on  April 
1,  1801  (how  sceptical  he  must  have  been  at  first  as 
to  the  genuineness  of  this  appointment!  One  can 
almost  hear  him  ejaculating  "Quite  so.  You  don't 
make  an  April  fool  of  me!"),  she  was  either  thirty 
or  thirty-one  years  old.  Lady  Nugent  was  as  great 
an  adept  as  Mrs.  Fairchild,  of  revered  memory,  at 
composing  long  prayers,  every  one  of  which  she  enters 
in  extenso  in  her  diary,  but  not  only  was  there  a  de- 
lightful note  of  feminine  coquetry  about  her,  but  she 
also  possessed  a  keen  sense  of  humour,  two  engaging 
attributes  in  which,  I  fear,  that  poor  Mrs.  Fairchild 
was  lamentably  lacking. 

Lady  Nugent  and  her  husband  sailed  out  to 
Jamaica  in  a  man-of-war,  H.M.S.  Ambuscade,  in 
June,  1801.  As  Sir  George  Nugent  had  been  from 
1799  to  1801  Adjutant-General  in  Ireland,  this  name 
must  have  had  quite  a  home-like  sound  to  him.  We 
read  in  Lady  Nugent's  diary  of  June  25,  1801,  after 
a  lengthy  supplication  for  protection  against  the  perils 
of  the  deep,  the  following  charmingly  feminine  note : 


114  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

"My  nightcaps  are  so  smart  that  I  wear  them  all  day, 
for  to  tell  the  truth  I  really  think  I  look  better  in  my 
nightcap  than  in  my  bonnet,  and  as  I  am  surrounded 
by  men  who  do  not  know  a  nightcap  from  a  daycap,  it 
is  no  matter  what  I  do."  Dear  little  thing!  I  am 
sure  she  looked  too  sweet  in  them.  They  sailed  from 
Cork  on  June  5,  and  reached  Barbados  on  July  17, 
which  seems  a  quick  voyage.  They  stayed  one  night 
at  an  inn  in  Bridgetown,  and  gave  a  dinner-party  for 
which  the  bill  was  over  sixty  pounds.  This  strikes 
quite  a  modern  note,  and  might  really  have  been  in 
post-war  days  instead  of  in  1801. 

Lady  Nugent  found  the  society  in  Jamaica,  both 
that  of  officials  and  of  planters  and  their  wives,  in- 
tensely uncongenial  to  her.  "Nothing  is  ever  talked 
of  in  this  horrid  island  but  the  price  of  sugar.  The 
only  other  topics  of  conversation  are  debt,  disease  and 
death."  She  was  much  shocked  at  the  low  standard 
of  morality  prevailing  amongst  the  white  men  in  the 
colony,  and  disgusted  at  the  perpetual  gormandising 
and  drunkenness.  The  frequent  deaths  from  yellow 
fever  amongst  her  acquaintance,  and  the  terrible 
rapidity  with  which  Yellow  Jack  slew,  depressed  her 
dreadfully,  and  she  was  startled  at  the  callous  fashion 
in  which  people,  hardened  by  many  years'  experience 
of  the  scourge,  received  the  news  of  the  death  of  their 
most  intimate  friends.  She  was  perpetually  com- 
plaining of  the  unbearable  heat,  to  which  she  never 
got  acclimatised;  she  suffered  "sadly"  from  the  mos- 
quitoes, and  never  could  get  used  to  earthquakes, 
hurricanes,  or  scorpions. 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE   115 

With  these  exceptions,  she  seems  to  have  liked 
Jamaica  very  well.  It  must  have  been  an  extraor- 
dinary community,  and  to  understand  it  we  must  re- 
member the  conditions  prevailing.  Bryan  Edwards, 
in  his  History  of  the  British  West  Indies,  published  in 
1793,  called  them  "the  principal  source  of  the  national 
opulence  and  maritime  power  of  England" ;  and  with- 
out the  stream  of  wealth  pouring  into  Great  Britain 
from  Barbados  and  Jamaica,  the  long  struggle  with 
France  would  have  been  impossible. 

The  term  "as  rich  as  a  West  Indian*'  was  pro- 
verbial, and  in  1803  the  West  Indies  were  accountable 
for  one-third  of  the  imports  and  exports  of  Great 
Britain. 

The  price  of  sugar  in  1803  was  fifty-two  shillings 
a  hundredweight.  Wealth  was  pouring  into  the  island 
and  into  the  pockets  of  the  planters.  Lady  Nugent 
constantly  alludes  to  sugar  estates  worth  £20,000  or 
£30,000  a  year.  These  planters  were  six  weeks  dis- 
tant from  England,  and,  except  during  the  two  years' 
respite  which  followed  the  Treaty  of  Amiens,  Great 
Britain  had  been  intermittently  at  war  with  either 
France  or  Spain  during  the  whole  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  The  preliminary  articles  of  peace  between 
France  and  Britain  were  signed  on  October  1,  1801, 
the  Peace  of  Amiens  itself  on  March  27,  1802, 
but  in  July,  1803,  hostilities  between  the  two  countries 
were  again  renewed.  All  this  meant  that  communica- 
tions between  the  colony  and  the  motherland  were 
very  precarious.  Nominally  a  mail-packet  sailed  from 
Jamaica  once  a  month,  but  the  seas  were  swarming 


116  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

with  swift-sailing  French  and  Spanish  privateers, 
hanging  about  the  trade-routes  on  the  chance  of  cap- 
turing West  Indiamen  with  their  rich  cargoes,  so 
the  mail-packets  had  to  wait  till  a  convoy  assembled, 
and  were  then  escorted  home  by  men-of-war.  This 
entailed  the  increasing  isolation  of  the  white  commu- 
nity in  Jamaica,  who,  in  their  outlook  on  life,  retained 
the  eighteenth-century  standpoint.  Now  the  eigh- 
teenth century  was  a  thoroughly  gross  and  material 
epoch.  People  had  a  pretty  taste  in  clothes,  and  a 
nice  feeling  for  good  architecture,  graceful  furniture, 
and  artistic  house  decoration,  but  this  was  a  veneer 
only,  and  under  the  veneer  lay  an  ingrained  grossness 
of  mind,  just  as  the  gorgeous  satins  and  dainty  bro- 
cades covered  dirty,  unwashed  bodies.  Even  the  com- 
plexions of  the  women  were  artificial  to  mask  the 
defects  of  a  sparing  use  of  soap  and  water,  and  they 
drenched  themselves  with  perfumes  to  hide  the  un- 
pleasant effects  of  this  lack  of  bodily  cleanliness.  On 
the  surface  hyper-refinement,  glitter  and  show;  be- 
neath it  a  crude  materialism  and  an  ingrained  gross- 
ness  of  temperament.  What  else  could  be  expected 
when  all  the  men  got  drunk  as  a  matter  of  course 
almost  every  night  of  their  lives?  Over  the  coarsest 
description  of  wood  lay  a  very  highly  polished  veneer 
of  satin-wood,  which  might  possibly  deceive  the  eye, 
but  once  scratch  the  paper-thin  veneer  and  the  ugly 
under-surface  was  at  once  apparent.  Money  rolled 
into  the  pockets  of  these  Jamaican  planters ;  there  is 
but  little  sport  possible  in  the  island,  and  they  had 
no  intellectual  pursuits,  so  they  just  built  fine  houses, 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  117 

filled  them  with  rare  china,  Chippendale  furniture, 
and  silver  plate,  and  found  their  amusements  in  eat- 
ing, drinking  and  gambling. 

Even  to-day  the  climate  of  Jamaica  is  very  ener- 
vating. Wise  people  know  now  that  to  keep  in  health 
in  hot  countries  alcohol,  and  wine  especially,  must  be 
avoided.  Meat  must  be  eaten  very  sparingly,  and  an 
abstemious  regime  will  bring  its  own  reward.  In  the 
eighteenth  century,  however,  people  apparently 
thought  that  vast  quantities  of  food  and  drink  would 
combat  the  debilitating  effects  of  the  climate,  and 
that,  too,  at  a  time  when  yellow  fever  was  endemic. 
There  are  still  old-fashioned  people  who  are  obsessed 
with  the  idea  that  the  more  you  eat  the  stronger  you 
grow.  The  Creoles  in  Jamaica  certainly  put  this 
theory  into  effect.  Michael  Scott,  in  Tom  Cringle, 
describes  many  Gargantuan  repasts  amongst  the 
Kingston  merchants,  and  as  he  himself  was  one  of 
them,  we  can  presume  he  knew  what  he  was  writing 
about.  The  men,  too,  habitually  drank,  of  all  bever- 
ages in  the  world  to  select  in  the  scorching  heat  of 
Jamaica,  hot  brandy  and  water,  and  then  they  won- 
dered that  they  died  of  yellow  fever!  Every  white 
man  and  woman  in  the  island  seems  to  have  been 
gorged  with  food.  It  was  really  a  case  of  "let  us  eat 
and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we  die" ;  but  if  they  hadn't 
eaten  and  drunk  so  enormously,  presumably  they 
would  not  have  died  so  rapidly. 

Lady  Nugent  was  much  disgusted  with  this  gor- 
mandising. On  page  78  of  her  journal  she  says,  "I 
don't  wonder  now  at  the  fever  the  people  suffer  from 


118  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

here — such  eating  and  drinking  I  never  saw!  Such 
loads  of  rich  and  highly-seasoned  things,  and  really 
the  gallons  of  wine  and  mixed  liquors  that  they  drink ! 
I  observed  some  of  our  party  to-day  eat  at  breakfast 
as  if  they  had  never  eaten  before.  A  dish  of  tea, 
another  of  coffee,  a  bumper  of  claret,  another  large 
one  of  hock-negus;  then  Madeira,  sangaree,  hot  and 
cold  meats,  stews  and  pies,  hot  and  cold  fish  pickled 
and  plain,  peppers,  ginger-sweetmeats,  acid  fruit, 
sweet  jellies — in  short,  it  was  all  as  astonishing  as  it 
was  disgusting." 

It  really  does  seem  a  fair  allowance  for  a  simple 
morning  meal. 

The  life  of  a  Governor  of  Jamaica  is  now  prin- 
cipally taken  up  with  quiet  administrative  work,  but 
in  1802  he  was  supposed  to  hold  a  succession  of  re- 
views, to  give  personal  audiences,  endless  balls  and 
dinners,  to  make  tours  of  inspection  round  the  island ; 
and,  in  addition,  as  ex  officio  Chancellor  of  Jamaica, 
it  was  his  duty  to  preside  at  all  the  sittings  of  the 
Court  of  Chancery.  During  their  many  tours  of  in- 
spection poor  little  Lady  Nugent  complains  that,  with 
the  best  wishes  in  the  world,  she  really  could  not  eat 
five  large  meals  a  day.  She  continues  (page  95), 
"At  the  Moro  to-day,  our  dinner  at  6  was  really  so 
profuse  that  it  is  worth  describing.  The  first  course 
was  of  fish,  with  an  entire  jerked  hog  in  the  centre, 
and  a  black  crab  pepper-pot.  The  second  course  was 
of  turtle,  mutton,  beef,  turkey,  goose,  ducks,  chicken, 
capons,  ham,  tongue,  and  crab  patties.  The  third 
course  was  of  sweets  and  fruits  of  all  kinds.  I  felt 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  119 

quite  sick,  what  with  the  heat  and  such  a  profusion 
of  eatables." 

One  wonders  what  those  planters*  weekly  bills 
would  have  amounted  to  at  the  present-day  scale  of 
prices,  and  can  no  longer  feel  surprised  at  their  all 
running  into  debt,  in  spite  of  their  huge  incomes.  The 
drinking,  too,  was  on  the  same  scale.  Lady  Nugent 
remarks  (page  108),  "I  am  not  astonished  at  the 
general  ill-health  of  the  men  in  this  country,  for  they 
really  eat  like  cormorants  and  drink  like  porpoises. 
All  the  men  of  our  party  got  drunk  to-night,  even  to  a 
boy  of  fifteen,  who  was  obliged  to  be  carried  home." 
Tom  Cringle,  in  his  account  of  a  dinner-party  in  Cuba, 
remarks  airily,  "We,  the  males  of  the  party,  had 
drunk  little  or  nothing,  a  bottle  of  claret  or  so  apiece, 
a  dram  of  brandy,  and  a  good  deal  of  vin-de-grave 
(sic) ,"  and  he  really  thinks  that  nothing:  moderation 
itself  in  that  sweltering  climate ! 

In  spite  of  her  disgust  at  the  immense  amount  of 
food  devoured  round  her,  Lady  Nugent  seems  to  have 
adopted  a  Jamaican  scale  of  diet  for  her  children, 
for  when  she  returned  to  England  with  them  in  the 
Augustus  Ocesar  in  1805,  she  gives  the  following  ac- 
count of  the  day's  routine  on  board  the  ship.  It  must 
be  observed  that  George,  the  elder  child,  was  not  yet 
three,  and  that  Louisa  was  under  two.  "When  I 
awake,  the  old  steward  brings  me  a  dish  of  ginger  tea. 
I  then  dress,  and  breakfast  with  the  children.  At 
eleven  the  children  have  biscuits,  and  some  port  wine 
and  water.  George  eats  some  chicken  or  mutton  at 
twelve,  and  at  two  they  each  have  a  bowl  of  strong 


120  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

soup.  At  four  we  all  dine ;  I  go  to  my  cabin  at  half- 
past  seven,  and  soon  after  eight  I  am  always  in  bed 
and  the  babies  fast  asleep.  The  old  steward  then 
comes  to  my  bedside  with  a  large  tumbler  of  porter 
with  a  toast  in  it.  I  eat  the  toast,  drink  the  porter,  and 
usually  rest  well." 

Those  two  unfortunate  children  must  have  landed 
in  England  two  miniature  Daniel  Lamberts.  It  is 
pleasant  to  learn  that  little  George  lived  to  the  age  of 
ninety.  Had  he  not  been  so  stuffed  with  food  in  his 
youth,  he  would  probably  have  been  a  centenarian. 

During  Nugent's  term  of  office  events  in  Haiti,  or 
San  Domingo,  as  it  was  still  called  then,  occasioned 
him  great  anxiety.  Before  the  outbreak  of  the  French 
Revolution  in  1789,  Haiti  had  been  the  most  prosper- 
ous and  the  most  highly  civilised  of  the  West  Indian 
islands.  But  after  the  French  National  Assembly 
had,  in  1791,  decreed  equal  rights  between  whites  and 
mulattoes,  troubles  began.  The  blacks  rebelled;  the 
French  rescinded  the  decree  of  1791  and,  changing 
their  minds  again,  re-affirmed  it.  The  blacks  began 
murdering  and  plundering  the  whites,  and  many 
planters  emigrated  to  Jamaica  and  the  United  States. 
That  most  extraordinary  man,  Toussaint  I'Ouverture, 
a  pure  negro,  who  had  been  born  a  slave,  re-estab- 
lished some  form  of  order  in  Haiti  until  Napoleon, 
when  the  preliminary  articles  of  the  Peace  of  Amiens 
had  been  signed  between  Britain  and  France,  hit  upon 
the  idea  of  employing  his  soldiers  in  Haiti,  and  sent 
out  his  brother-in-law,  General  Le  Clerc,  with  25,000 
French  soldiers  to  re-conquer  the  island.  It  was  a 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  121 

most  ill-fated  expedition ;  the  soldiers  could  not  with- 
stand the  climate,  and  died  like  flies;  France  losing, 
from  first  to  last,  no  less  than  40,000  men  from  yellow 
fever.  In  1802,  Le  Clerc,  who  seems  to  have  been  a 
great  scoundrel,  died,  and  in  1804  Haiti  declared  her 
independence. 

After  the  Peace  of  Amiens  the  French  Govern- 
ment were  exceedingly  anxious  to  secure  the  co- 
operation of  British  troops  from  Jamaica,  seasoned 
to  the  climate,  in  restoring  order  in  Haiti,  and  even 
offered  to  cede  them  such  portions  of  Haiti  as  were 
willing  to  come  under  the  British  flag.  During  the 
ten  months  of  General  Le  Clerc's  administration  of 
Haiti  he  was  perpetually  sending  envoys  to  General 
Nugent  in  Jamaica,  and  continually  offering  him 
presents.  It  is  not  uncharitable  to  suppose  that  these 
presents  were  proffered  with  a  view  of  winning  Nu- 
gent's support  to  the  idea  of  a  British  expedition  to 
Haiti.  Nugent,  however,  sternly  refused  all  these 
gifts.  Madame  Le  Clerc,  Napoleon's  sister,  who  is 
better  known  as  the  beautiful  Princess  Pauline  Bor- 
ghese,  a  lady  with  an  infinity  of  admirers,  was  far 
more  subtle  in  her  methods.  Her  presents  to  Lady 
Nugent  took  the  irresistible  form  of  dresses  of  the 
latest  Parisian  fashion,  and  were  eagerly  accepted 
by  that  volatile  little  lady.  Indeed,  for  ten  months 
she  seems  to  have  been  entirely  dressed  by  Madame 
Le  Clerc,  who  even  provided  little  George  Nugent's 
christening  robe  of  white  muslin,  heavily  embroidered 
in  gold.  Ladies  may  be  interested  in  Lady  Nugent's 
account  of  her  various  dresses.  "Last  night  at  the  ball 


122  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

I  wore  a  new  dress  of  purple  crape,  embroidered  and 
heavily  spangled  in  gold,  given  me  by  Madame  Le 
Clerc.  The  skirt  rather  short;  the  waist  very  high. 
On  my  head  I  wore  a  wreath  of  gilded  bay-leaves,  and 
must  have  looked  like  a  Roman  Empress.  I  think 
that  purple  suits  me,  for  every  one  declared  that  they 
never  saw  me  looking  better."  Dear  little  lady!  I 
am  sure  that  she  never  did,  and  that  the  piquant  little 
face  on  the  frontispiece,  with  its  roguish  eyes,  looked 
charming  under  her  gold  wreath.  Again,  "I  wore 
a  lovely  dress  of  pink  crape  spangled  in  silver,  sent 
me  by  Madame  Le  Clerc."  She  gives  a  fuller  account 
of  her  dress  at  the  great  ball  given  her  to  celebrate  her 
recovery  after  the  birth  of  her  son  (Dec.  30, 1802) . 

"For  the  benefit  of  posterity  I  will  describe  my 
dress  on  this  grand  occasion.  A  crape  dress,  embroid- 
ered in  silver  spangles,  also  sent  me  by  Madame  Le 
Clerc,  but  much  richer  than  that  which  I  wore  at  the 
last  ball.  Scarcely  any  sleeves  to  my  dress,  but  a 
broad  silver  spangled  border  to  the  shoulder-straps. 
The  body  made  very  like  a  child's  frock,  tying  behind, 
and  the  skirt  round,  with  not  much  train.  On  my 
head  a  turban  of  spangled  crape  like  the  dress,  looped- 
up  with  pearls.  This  dress,  the  admiration  of  all  the 
world  over,  will,  perhaps,  fifty  years  hence,  be  laughed 
at,  and  considered  as  ridiculous  as  our  grandmothers' 
hoops  and  brocades  appear  to  us  now." 

In  fairness  it  must  be  stated  that  General  Nugent 
punctiliously  returned  all  Madame  Le  Clerc's  pres- 
ents to  his  wife  with  gifts  of  English  cut-glass,  then 
apparently  much  appreciated  by  the  French.  He 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  123 

seems  to  have  sent  absolute  cart-loads  of  cut-glass  to 
Haiti,  but  in  days  when  men  habitually  drank  two 
bottles  of  wine  apiece  after  dinner,  there  was  presum- 
ably a  fair  amount  of  breakage  of  decanters  and 
tumblers. 

I  notice  that  although  Lady  Nugent  complains  on 
almost  every  page  of  "the  appalling  heat,"  the  "un- 
bearable heat,"  the  "terrific  heat,  which  gives  me  these 
sad  headaches,"  she  seems  always  ready  to  dance  for 
hours  at  any  time.  Some  idea  of  the  ceremonious 
manners  of  the  day  is  obtained  from  the  perpetual 
entry  "went  to  bed  with  my  knees  aching  from  the 
hundreds  of  curtsies  I  have  had  to  make  to  the  com- 
pany." 

In  1811  Sir  George  Nugent  was  appointed  Com- 
mander-in-Chief  in  Bengal,  and  their  voyage  from 
Portsmouth  to  Calcutta  occupied  exactly  six  months, 
yet  there  are  people  who  grumble  at  the  mails  now 
taking  eighteen  days  to  traverse  the  distance  be- 
tween London  and  Calcutta. 

Lady  Nugent  was  much  shocked  at  the  universal 
habit  of  smoking  amongst  Europeans  in  the  East  In- 
dies. She  sternly  refused  to  allow  their  two  aides- 
de-camp  to  smoke,  "for  as  they  are  both  only  twenty- 
five,  they  are  too  young  to  begin  so  odious  a  custom," 
an  idea  which  will  amuse  the  fifteen-year-olds  of  to- 
day. 

Not  till  1906  did  I  find  myself  sailing  into  Kings- 
ton Harbour  and  actually  set  eyes  on  Port  Royal,  the 
Palisadoes,  and  Fort  Augusta,  all  very  familiar  by 
name  to  me  since  my  boyhood. 


124  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

I  had  taken  the  trip  to  shake  off  a  prolonged  bron- 
chial attack;  a  young  Guardsman,  a  friend  of  mine, 
though  my  junior  by  many  years,  was  convalescent 
after  an  illness,  and  was  also  recommended  a  sunbath, 
so  we  travelled  together.  The  hotels  being  all  full,  we 
took  up  our  quarters  in  a  small  boarding-house,  stand- 
ing in  dense  groves  of  orange  trees,  where  each  shiver 
of  the  night  breeze  sent  the  branches  of  the  orange 
trees  swish-swishing,  and  wafted  great  breaths  of  the 
delicious  fragrance  of  orange  blossom  into  our  rooms. 
I  was  in  bed,  when  the  Guardsman,  who  had  never 
been  in  the  tropics  before,  rushed  terror-stricken  into 
my  room.  "I  have  drunk  nothing  whatever,"  he  fal- 
tered, "but  I  must  be  either  very  drunk  or  else  mad, 
for  I  keep  fancying  that  my  room  is  full  of  moving 
electric  lights."  I  went  into  his  room,  where  I  found 
some  half-dozen  of  the  peculiarly  brilliant  Jamaican 
fireflies  cruising  about.  The  Guardsman  refused  at 
first  to  believe  that  any  insect  could  produce  so  bright 
a  light,  and  bemoaned  the  loss  of  his  mental  faculties, 
until  I  caught  a  firefly  and  showed  him  its  two  lamps 
gleaming  like  miniature  motor  head-lights. 

Some  pictures  stand  out  startlingly  clear-cut  in  the 
memory.  Such  a  one  is  the  recollection  of  our  first 
morning  in  Jamaica.  The  Guardsman,  full  of  curi- 
osity to  see  something  of  the  mysterious  tropical  island 
into  which  we  had  been  deposited  after  nightfall, 
awoke  me  at  daybreak.  After  landing  from  the  mail- 
steamer  in  the  dark,  we  had  had  merely  impressions  of 
oven-like  heat,  and  of  a  long,  dim-lit  drive  in  endless 
suburbs  of  flimsily  built,  wooden  houses,  through  the 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  125 

spice-scented,  hot,  black-velvet  night,  enlivened  with 
almost  indecently  intimate  glimpses  into  humble  in- 
teriors, where  swarthy  dark  forms  jabbered  and  ges- 
ticulated, clustered  round  smoky  oil-lamps;  and  as 
the  suburbs  gave  place  to  the  open  country,  the  vast 
leaves  of  unfamiliar  growths  stood  out,  momentarily 
silhouetted  against  the  blackness  by  the  gleam  of  our 
carriage  lamps. 

It  being  so  early,  the  Guardsman  and  I  went  out 
as  we  were,  in  pyjamas  and  slippers,  with,  of  course, 
sufficient  head  protection  against  the  fierce  sun.  Just 
a  fortnight  before  we  had  left  England  under  snow, 
in  the  grip  of  a  black  frost;  London  had  been  veiled 
in  incessant  thick  fogs  for  ten  days,  and  we  had 
fallen  straight  into  the  most  exquisitely  beautiful 
island  on  the  face  of  the  globe,  bathed  in  perpetual 
summer. 

When  we  had  traversed  the  grove  of  orange  trees, 
we  came  upon  a  lovely  little  sunk-garden,  where  beds 
of  cannas,  orange,  sulphur,  and  scarlet,  blazed  round 
a  marble  fountain,  with  a  silvery  jet  splashing  and 
leaping  into  the  sunshine.  The  sunk-garden  was  sur- 
rounded on  three  sides  by  a  pergola,  heavily  draped 
with  yellow  alamandas,  drifts  of  wine-coloured  bou- 
gainvillaea, and  pale-blue  solanums,  the  size  of  saucers. 
In  the  clear  morning  light  it  really  looked  entranc- 
ingly  lovely.  On  the  fourth  side  the  garden  ended  in 
a  terrace  dominating  the  entire  Liguanea  plain,  with 
the  city  of  Kingston,  Kingston  Harbour,  Port  Royal, 
and  the  hills  on  the  far  side  spread  out  below  us  like 
a  map.  Those  hills  are  now  marked  on  the  Ordnance 


126  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

Survey  as  the  "Healthshire  Hills."  This  is  a  modern 
euphemism,  for  the  name  originally  given  to  those 
hills  and  the  district  round  them  by  the  soldiers  sta- 
tioned in  the  "Apostles'  Battery,"  was  "Hellshire," 
and  any  one  who  has  had  personal  experience  of  the 
heat  there,  can  hardly  say  that  the  title  is  inappro- 
priate. From  our  heights,  even  Kingston  itself  looked 
inviting,  an  impression  not  confirmed  by  subsequent 
visits  to  that  unlovely  town.  The  long,  sickle-shape 
sandspit  of  the  Palisadoes  separated  Kingston  Har- 
bour on  one  side  from  the  blue  waters  of  the  Carib- 
bean Sea;  on  the  other  side  the  mangrove  swamps  of 
the  Rio  Cobre  made  unnaturally  vivid  patches  of 
emerald  green  against  the  background  of  hills.  On 
railways  a  green  flag  denotes  that  caution  must  be  ob- 
served; the  vivid  green  of  the  mangroves  is  Nature's 
caution-flag  to  the  white  man,  for  where  the  man- 
grove flourishes,  there  fever  lurks. 

The  whole  scene  was  so  wonderfully  beautiful  under 
the  blazing  sunlight,  and  in  the  crystal-clear  atmos- 
phere, that  the  Guardsman  refused  to  accept  it  as 
genuine.  "It  can't  be  real!"  he  cried,  "this  is  Janu- 
ary. We  have  got  somehow  into  a  pantomime  trans- 
formation scene.  In  a  minute  it  will  go,  and  I  shall 
wake  up  in  Wellington  Barracks  to  find  it  freezing 
like  mad,  with  my  owl  of  a  servant  telling  me  that 
I  have  to  be  on  parade  in  five  minutes."  This  lengthy 
warrior  showed,  too,  a  childish  incredulity  when  I 
pointed  out  to  him  cocoa-nuts  hanging  on  the  palms ; 
a  field  of  growing  pineapples  below  us,  or  great  clus- 
ters of  fruit  on  the  banana  trees.  Pineapples,  cocoa- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  127 

nuts,  and  bananas  were  bought  in  shops;  they  did 
not  grow  on  trees.  He  would  insist  that  the  great 
orange  flowers,  the  size  of  cabbages,  on  the  Brownea 
trees  were  artificial,  as  were  the  big  blue  trumpets  of 
the  Morning  Glories.  He  was  in  reality  quite  intoxi- 
cated with  the  novelty  and  the  glamour  of  his  first 
peep  into  the  tropics.  By  came  fluttering  a  great, 
gorgeous  butterfly,  the  size  of  a  saucer,  and  after  it 
rushed  the  Guardsman,  shedding  slippers  around 
him  as  his  long  legs  bent  to  their  task.  He  might  just 
as  well  have  attempted  to  catch  the  Scotch  Express; 
but,  as  he  returned  to  me  dripping,  he  began  to  realise 
what  the  heat  of  Jamaica  can  do.  All  the  remainder 
of  that  day  the  Guardsman  remained  under  the  spell 
of  the  entrancing  beauty  of  his  new  surroundings,  and 
I  was  dragged  on  foot  for  miles  and  miles;  along 
country  lanes,  through  the  Hope  Botanical  Gardens, 
down  into  the  deep  ravine  of  the  Hope  River,  then 
back  again,  both  of  us  dripping  wet  in  the  fierce 
heat,  in  spite  of  our  white  drill  suits,  larding  the 
ground  as  we  walked,  oozing  from  every  pore,  but 
always  urged  on  and  on  by  my  enthusiastic  young 
friend,  who,  suffering  from  a  paucity  of  epithets,  kept 
up  monotonous  ejaculations  of  "How  absolutely 
d d  lovely  it  all  is !"  every  two  minutes. 

I  had  to  remain  a  full  hour  in  the  swimming-bath 
after  my  exertions;  and  the  Guardsman  had  quite 
determined  by  night-time  to  "send  in  his  papers,"  and 
settle  down  as  a  coffee-planter  in  this  enchanting 
island. 

It  is  curious  that  although  the   Spaniards  held 


128  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

Jamaica  for  one  hundred  and  sixty-one  years,  no  trace 
of  the  Spaniard  in  language,  customs,  or  architecture 
is  left  in  the  island,  for  Spain  has  generally  left  her 
permanent  impress  on  all  countries  occupied  by  her, 
and  has  planted  her  language  and  her  customs  defi- 
nitely in  them.  The  one  exception  as  regards  Jamaica 
is  found  in  certain  place-names  such  as  Ocho  Rios, 
Rio  Grande,  and  Rio  Cobre,  but  as  these  are  all  pro- 
nounced in  the  English  fashion,  the  music  of  the 
Spanish  names  is  lost.  Not  one  word  of  any  language 
but  English  (of  a  sort)  is  now  heard  in  the  colony. 
When  Columbus  discovered  the  island  in  1494,  he 
called  it  Santiago,  St.  James  being  the  patron  saint 
of  Spain,  but  the  native  name  of  Xaymaca  (which 
being  interpreted  means  "the  land  of  springs")  per- 
sisted somehow,  and  really  there  are  enough  San- 
tiagos  already  dotted  about  in  Spanish-speaking  coun- 
tries, without  further  additions  to  them.  When  Ad- 
miral Penn  and  General  Venables  were  sent  out  by 
Cromwell  to  break  the  Spanish  power  in  the  West 
Indies,  they  succeeded  in  capturing  Jamaica  in  1655, 
and  British  the  island  has  remained  ever  since.  To 
this  day  the  arms  of  Jamaica  are  Cromwell's  arms 
slightly  modified,  and  George  V  is  not  King,  but 
"Supreme  Lord  of  Jamaica,"  the  original  title  as- 
sumed by  Cromwell.  The  fine  statue  of  Queen  Vic- 
toria in  Kingston  is  inscribed  "Queen  of  Great  Britain 
and  Ireland,  Empress  of  India,  and  Supreme  Lady 
of  Jamaica." 

Venables  found  that  the  Spaniards,  craving  for  yet 
another  Santiago,  had  called  the  capital  of  the  island 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  129 

Santiago  de  la  Vega,  "St.  James  of  the  Plain,"  and 
to  this  day  the  official  name  of  Spanish  Town,  the 
old  capital,  is  St.  Jago  de  Vega,  and  as  such  is  in- 
scribed on  all  the  milestones,  only  as  it  is  pronounced 
in  the  English  fashion,  it  is  now  one  of  the  ugliest 
names  imaginable.  The  wonderfully  beautiful  gorge 
of  the  Rio  Cobre,  above  Spanish  Town,  was  called  by 
the  conquistadores  "Spouting  Waters,"  or  Bocas  de 
Agua.  This  has  been  Anglicised  into  the  hideous 
name  of  Bog  Walk,  just  as  the  "High  Waters," 
Agua  Alta,  on  the  north  side  of  the  island,  has  be- 
come the  Wagwater  River.  The  Spanish  forms  seem 
preferable  to  me. 

Some  one  has  truly  said  that  the  old  Spaniards 
shared  all  the  coral  insect's  mania  for  building.  As 
soon  as  they  had  conquered  a  place,  they  set  to  work 
to  build  a  great  cathedral,  and  simultaneously,  the 
church  then  being  distinctly  militant,  a  large  and 
solid  fort.  They  then  proceeded  to  erect  massive 
walls  and  ramparts  round  their  new  settlement,  and 
most  of  these  ramparts  are  surviving  to-day.  We, 
in  true  British  haphazard  style,  did  not  build  for 
posterity,  but  allowed  ramshackle  towns  to  spring  up 
anyhow  without  any  attempt  at  design  or  plan.  There 
are  many  things  we  could  learn  from  the  Spanish. 
Their  solid,  dignified  cities  of  massive  stone  houses 
with  deep,  heavy  arcades  into  which  the  sun  never 
penetrates;  their  broad  plazas  where  cool  fountains 
spout  under  great  shade-trees;  their  imposing  over- 
ornate  churches,  their  general  look  of  solid  perma- 
nence, put  to  shame  our  flimsy,  ephemeral,  planless 


130  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

British  West  Indian  towns  of  match-boarding  and 
white  paint.  We  seldom  look  ahead :  they  always  did. 
Added  to  which  it  would  be,  of  course,  too  much 
trouble  to  lay  out  towns  after  definite  designs;  it  is 
much  easier  to  let  them  grow  up  anyhow.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  British  colonial  towns  have  all  good 
water  supplies,  and  efficient  systems  of  sewerage, 
which  atones  in  some  degree  for  their  architectural 
shortcomings ;  whilst  the  Spaniard  would  never  dream 
of  bothering  his  head  about  sanitation,  and  would  be 
content  with  a  very  inadequate  water  supply.  Pro- 
vided that  he  had  sufficient  water  for  the  public  foun- 
tains, the  Spaniard  would  not  trouble  about  a  domes- 
tic supply.  The  Briton  contrives  an  ugly  town  in 
which  you  can  live  in  reasonable  health  and  comfort; 
the  Spaniard  fashions  a  most  picturesque  city  in  which 
you  are  extremely  like  to  die.  Racial  ideals  differ. 


CHAPTER  V 

An  election  meeting  in  Jamaica — Two  family  experiences  at 
contested  elections — Novel  South  African  methods — Un- 
attractive Kingston — A  driving  tour  through  the  island — 
The  Guardsman  as  orchid  hunter — Derelict  country  houses 
— An  attempt  to  reconstruct  the  past — The  Fourth-Form 
Room  at  Harrow — Elizabethan  Harrovians — I  meet  many- 
friends  of  my  youth — The  "Sunday"  books  of  the  'sixties — • 
"Black  and  White" — Arrival  of  the  French  Fleet — Its 
inner  meaning — International  courtesies — A  delicate  atten- 
tion— Absent  alligators — The  mangrove  swamp — A  prepos- 
terous suggestion — The  swamps  do  their  work — Fever — A 
very  gallant  apprentice — What  he  did. 

THE  Guardsman's  enthusiasm  about  Jamaica  re- 
maining unabated,  I  determined  to  hire  a  buggy  and 
pair  and  to  make  a  fortnight's  leisurely  tour  of  the 
North  Coast  and  centre  of  the  island.  Though  not 
peculiarly  expeditious,  this  is  a  very  satisfactory  mode 
of  travel ;  no  engine  troubles,  no  burst  tyres,  and  no 
worries  about  petrol  supplies.  A  new  country  can 
be  seen  and  absorbed  far  more  easily  from  a  horse- 
drawn  vehicle  than  from  a  hurrying  motor-car,  and 
the  little  country  inns  in  Jamaica,  though  very  plainly 
equipped,  are,  as  a  rule,  excellent,  with  surprisingly 
good  if  somewhat  novel  food. 

As  the  member  for  St.  Andrews  in  the  local  Leg- 
islative Council  had  just  died,  an  election  was  being 
held  in  Kingston.  Curious  as  to  what  an  election- 
meeting  in  Jamaica  might  be  like,  we  attended  one. 
The  hall  was  very  small,  and  densely  packed  with 

131 


132  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

people,  and  the  suffocating  heat  drove  us  away  after 
a  quarter  of  an  hour;  but  never  have  I,  in  so  short 
a  space  of  time,  heard  such  violent  personalities  hurled 
from  a  public  platform,  although  I  have  had  a  certain 
amount  of  experience  of  contested  elections.  In  1868, 
when  I  was  eleven  years  old,  I  was  in  Londonderry 
City  when  my  brother  Claud,  the  sitting  member,  was 
opposed  by  Mr.  Serjeant  Dowse,  afterwards  Baron 
Dowse,  the  last  of  the  Irish  "Barons  of  the  Ex- 
chequer." Party  feeling  ran  very  high  indeed;  when- 
ever a  body  of  Dowse's  supporters  met  my  brother 
in  the  street,  they  commenced  singing  in  chorus,  to 
a  popular  tune  of  the  day: 

"Dowse  for  iver !    Claud  in  the  river ! 
With  a  skiver  through  his  liver." 

Whilst  my  brother's  adherents  greeted  Dowse  in  pub- 
lic with  a  sort  of  monotonous  chant  to  these  elegant 
words : 

"Dowse !    Dowse !  you're  a  dirty  louse, 
And  ye'll  niver  sit  in  the  Commons'  House." 

It  will  be  noticed  that  this  is  in  the  same  rhythm 
that  Mark  Twain  made  so  popular  some  twenty  years 
later  in  his  conductor's  song. 

"Punch,  brothers,  punch  with  care, 
Punch  in  the  presence  of  the  passen-jare." 

In  spite  of  the  confident  predictions  of  my  brother's 
followers,  Dowse  won  the  seat  by  a  small  majority, 
nor  did  my  brother  succeed  in  unseating  him  after- 
wards on  Petition. 

Another  occasion  on  which  feeling  ran  very  high 
was  in  Middlesex  during  the  1874  election.     Here 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  133 

my  brother  George  was  the  Conservative  candidate, 
and  owing  to  his  having  played  cricket  for  Harrow 
at  Lord's,  he  was  supported  enthusiastically  by  the 
whole  school,  the  Harrow  masters  being  at  that  time 
Liberals  almost  to  a  man.  My  tutor,  a  prominent 
local  Liberal,  must  have  been  enormously  gratified 
at  finding  the  exterior  of  his  house  literally  plas- 
tered from  top  to  bottom  with  crimson  placards 
(crimson  is  the  Conservative  colour  in  Middlesex)  all 
urging  the  electors  to  "vote  for  Hamilton  the  proved 
Friend  of  the  People."  Possibly  fraternal  affection 
may  have  had  something  to  do  with  this  crimson  out- 
burst. My  youngest  brother  took,  as  far  as  his 
limited  opportunities  allowed  him,  an  energetic  part 
in  this  election.  He  got  indeed  into  some  little  trouble, 
for  being  only  fifteen  years  old  and  not  yet  versed 
in  the  niceties  of  political  controversy,  he  endeavoured 
to  give  weight  and  point  to  one  of  his  arguments 
with  the  aid  of  the  sharp  end  of  a  football  goal-post. 
My  brother  George  was  returned  by  an  enormous  ma- 
jority. 

The  most  original  electioneering  poster  I  ever  saw 
was  in  Capetown  in  March,  1914.  It  was  an  ad- 
mirably got-up  enlargement  of  a  funeral  card,  with  a 
deep  black  border,  adorned  with  a  realistic  picture  of 
a  hearse,  and  was  worded  "Unionist  Opposition  dead. 
Government  dying.  Electors  of  the  Liesbeck  Divi- 
sion drive  your  big  nails  into  the  coffin  by  voting 
for  Tom  Maginess  on  Saturday."  Whether  it  was 
due  to  this  novel  form  of  electioneering  or  not,  I  can- 


134  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

not  say,  but  Maginess  won  the  seat  by  two  thousand 
votes.  I  still  have  a  copy  of  that  poster. 

Neither  Londonderry  nor  Capetown  are  in  Ja- 
maica, but  oddly  enough,  Middlesex  is,  for  the  island 
is  divided  into  three  counties,  Cornwall,  Middlesex, 
and  Surrey.  The  local  geography  is  a  little  con- 
fusing, for  it  is  a  surprise  to  find  (in  Jamaica  at  all 
events)  that  Westmoreland  is  in  Cornwall,  and  Man- 
chester in  Middlesex. 

Kingston  owes  its  position  as  capital  to  the  misfor- 
tunes of  its  two  neighbours,  Port  Royal  and  Spanish 
Town.  When  Port  Royal  was  totally  destroyed  by 
an  earthquake  in  1692,  the  few  survivors  crossed  the 
bay  and  founded  a  new  town  on  the  sandy  Liguanea 
plain.  Owing  to  its  splendid  harbour,  Kingston  soon 
became  a  place  of  great  importance,  though  the  seat 
of  Government  remained  in  sleepy  Spanish  Town,  but 
the  latter  lying  inland,  and  close  to  the  swamps  of 
the  Rio  Cobre,  was  so  persistently  unhealthy  that  in 
1870  the  Government  was  transferred  to  Kingston. 
Though  very  prosperous,  its  most  fervent  admirer 
could  not  call  it  beautiful,  and,  owing  to  its  sandy 
soil,  it  is  an  intensely  hot  place,  but  in  compensa- 
tion it  receives  the  full  sea  breeze.  Every  morning 
about  nine,  the  sea  breeze  (locally  known  as  "the 
Doctor")  sets  in.  Gentle  at  first,  by  noon  it  is  rush- 
ing and  roaring  through  the  town  in  a  perfect  gale, 
to  drop  and  die  away  entirely  by  4  p.m.  By  a  most 
convenient  arrangement,  the  land  breeze,  disagreeably 
known  as  "the  Undertaker,"  drops  down  from  the 
Liguanea  Mountains  on  to  the  sweltering  town  about 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  135 

11  p.m.,  and  continues  all  through  the  night.  It  is 
this  double  breeze,  from  sea  by  day,  from  land  by 
night,  that  renders  life  in  Kingston  tolerable.  Owing 
to  the  sea  breeze  invariably  blowing  from  the  same 
direction,  Jamaicans  have  the  puzzling  habit  of  using 
"Windward"  and  "Leeward"  as  synonyms  for  East 
and  West.  To  be  told  that  such-and-such  a  place  is 
"two  miles  to  Windward  of  you"  seems  lacking  in 
definiteness  to  a  new  arrival. 

As  we  rolled  slowly  along  in  our  buggy,  the  Guards- 
man was  in  a  state  of  perpetual  bewilderment  at  hav- 
ing growing  sugar,  coffee,  cocoa,  and  rice  pointed  out 
to  him  by  the  driver.  "I  thought  that  it  was  an 
island,"  he  murmured;  "it  turns  out  to  be  nothing  but 
a  blessed  growing  grocer's  shop."  Half-way  between 
Kingston  and  Spanish  Town  is  the  Old  Ferry  Inn, 
the  oldest  inn  in  the  New  World.  It  stands  in  a  mass 
of  luxuriant  greenery  on  the  very  edge  of  the  Rio 
Cobre  swamps,  and  is  a  place  to  be  avoided  at  night- 
fall on  that  account.  This  fever  trap  of  an  inn,  being 
just  half-way  between  Kingston  and  Spanish  Town, 
was,  of  all  places  in  the  island  to  select,  the  chosen 
meeting-place  of  the  young  bloods  of  both  towns  in 
the  eighteenth  century.  Here  they  drove  out  to  dine 
and  carouse,  and  as  they  probably  all  got  drunk,  many 
of  them  must  have  slept  here,  on  the  very  edge  of 
the  swamp,  to  die  of  yellow  fever  shortly  afterwards. 

Sleepy  Spanish  Town,  the  old  capital,  has  a  decayed 
dignity  of  its  own.  The  public  square,  with  its  stately 
eighteenth-century  buildings,  is  the  only  architectural 
feature  I  ever  saw  in  the  British  West  Indies.  Our 


136  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

national  lack  of  imagination  is  typically  exemplified 
in  the  King's  House,  now  deserted,  which  occupies 
one  side  of  the  square.  When  it  was  finished  in  1760, 
it  was  considered  a  sumptuous  building.  The  archi- 
tect, Craskell,  in  that  scorching  climate,  designed  ex- 
actly the  sort  of  red-brick  and  white  stone  Georgian 
house  that  he  would  have  erected  at,  say,  Richmond. 
With  limitless  space  at  his  disposal,  he  surrounded 
his  house  with  streets  on  all  four  sides  of  it,  without 
one  yard  of  garden,  or  one  scrap  of  shade.  No 
wonder  that  poor  little  Lady  Nugent  detested  this 
oven  of  an  official  residence.  The  interior,  though, 
contains  some  spacious,  stately  Georgian  rooms;  the 
temperature  being  that  of  a  Turkish  bath. 

Rodney's  monument  is  a  graceful,  admirably  de- 
signed little  temple,  and  the  cathedral  of  a  vague 
Gothic,  is  spacious  and  dignified.  Spanish  Town 
cathedral  claims  to  have  been  built  in  1541,  in  spite 
of  an  inscription  over  the  door  recording  that  "this 
church  was  thrown  downe  by  ye  dreadfull  hurricane 
of  August  ye  28,  1712,  and  was  rebuilt  in  1714." 
It  contains  a  great  collection  of  elaborate  and  splendid 
monuments,  all  sent  out  from  England,  and  erected 
to  various  island  worthies.  The  amazing  arrogance  of 
an  inscription  on  a  tombstone  of  1690,  in  the  south 
transept,  struck  me  as  original.  It  commemorates 
some  Lieutenant-Governor  of  Jamaica,  and  after  the 
usual  eulogistic  category  of  his  unparalleled  good 
qualities,  ends  "so  in  the  fifty-fifth  year  of  his  age  he 
appeared  with  great  applause  before  his  God." 

There  is  a  peculiarly  beautiful  tree,  the  Petrcea, 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE    137 

which  seems  to  flourish  particularly  well  in  Spanish 
Town.  When  in  flower  in  February,  neither  trunk, 
leaves,  nor  branches  can  be  seen  for  its  dense  clusters 
of  bright  blue  blossoms,  which  are  unfortunately  very 
short-lived. 

Four  miles  above  Spanish  Town  the  hideously 
named  Bog  Walk,  the  famous  gorge  of  the  Rio  Cobre, 
commences.  I  do  not  believe  that  there  is  a  more  ex- 
quisitely beautiful  glen  in  the  whole  world.  The  clear 
stream  rushes  down  the  centre,  whilst  the  rocky  walls 
tower  up  almost  perpendicularly  for  five  or  six  hun- 
dred feet  on  either  side,  and  these  rocks,  precipitous 
as  they  are,  are  clothed  with  a  dense  growth  of  tropical 
forest.  The  bread-fruit  tree  with  its  broad,  scalloped 
leaves,  the  showy  star-apple,  glossy  green  above  deep 
gold  below,  mahoganies,  oranges,  and  bananas,  all 
seem  to  grow  wild.  The  bread-fruit  was  introduced 
into  Jamaica  from  the  South  Sea  Islands,  and  the 
first  attempt  to  transplant  it  was  made  by  the  ill-fated 
Bounty,  and  led  to  the  historical  mutiny  on  board, 
as  a  result  of  which  the  mutineers  established  them- 
selves on  Pitcairn  Island,  where  their  descendants 
remain  to  this  day.  Whatever  adventures  marked  its 
original  advent,  the  bread-fruit  has  made  itself  thor- 
oughly at  home  in  the  West  Indies,  and  forms  the 
staple  food  of  the  negroes.  When  carefully  prepared 
it  really  might  pass  for  under-done  bread,  prepared 
from  very  indifferent  flour  by  an  inexperienced  and 
unskilled  baker.  It  is  the  immense  variety  of  the 
foliage  and  the  constantly  changing  panorama  that 
gives  Bog  Walk  its  charm,  together  with  the  red, 


138  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

pink,  and  fawn-coloured  trumpets  of  the  hibiscus,  dot- 
ting the  precipitous  ramparts  of  rock  over  the  rush- 
ing blue  river.  Bog  Walk  is  distinctly  one  of  those 
places  which  no  one  with  opportunities  for  seeing  it 
should  miss.  It  opens  out  into  an  equally  beautiful 
basin,  St.  Thomas-in-the-Vale,  of  which  Michael  Scott 
gives  an  admirable  description  in  Tom  Cringle.  I 
should  hardly  select  that  steamy  cup  in  the  hills  as 
a  place  of  residence,  but  as  a  natural  forcing-house 
and  a  sample  of  riotous  vegetation,  it  is  worth  seeing. 
The  native  orchids  of  Jamaica  are  mostly  oncid- 
iums,  with  insignificant  little  brown  and  yellow  flow- 
ers, and  have  no  commercial  value  whatever.  The 
Guardsman,  however,  was  obsessed  with  the  idea  that 
he  would  discover  some  peerless  bloom  for  which  he 
would  be  paid  hundreds  of  pounds  by  a  London 
dealer.  Every  silk-cotton  tree  is  covered  with  what 
Jamaicans  term  "wild  pines,"  air-plants,  orchids,  and 
other  epiphytes,  and  every  silk-cotton  was  to  him  a 
potential  Golconda,  so  whenever  we  came  across  one 
he  wanted  the  buggy  stopped,  and  up  the  tree  he  went 
like  a  lamp  lighter.  I  am  bound  to  admit  that  he 
was  an  admirable  tree  climber,  but  I  objected  on  the 
score  of  delicacy  to  the  large  rents  that  these  aerial 
rambles  occasioned  in  his  white  ducks.  On  regaining 
the  ground  he  loaded  the  buggy  with  his  spoils,  de- 
spite the  driver's  assertion  that  "dat  all  trash."  Un- 
fortunately with  his  epiphytes  he  brought  down  whole 
colonies  of  ants,  and  the  Jamaican  ant  is  a  most  pug- 
nacious insect  with  abnormal  biting  powers.  After 
I  had  been  forced  to  disrobe  behind  some  convenient 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  139 

greenery  in  order  to  rid  myself  of  these  aggressive 
little  creatures,  I  was  compelled  to  put  a  stern  veto 
on  further  tree  exploration. 

The  ascent  from  Ewarton,  over  the  Monte  Diavolo, 
is  so  splendid  that  I  have  made  it  five  times  for  sheer 
delight  in  the  view.  Below  lies  St.  Thomas-in-the- 
Vale,  a  splendid  riot  of  palms,  orange,  and  forest 
trees,  and  above  it  towers  hill  after  hill,  dominated 
by  the  lofty  peaks  of  the  Blue  Mountains.  It  is  a 
gorgeously  vivid  panorama,  all  in  greens,  gold,  and 
vivid  blues.  Monte  Diavolo  is  the  only  part  of  Ja- 
maica where  there  are  wild  parrots;  it  is  also  the 
home  of  the  allspice  tree,  or  pimento,  as  it  is  called 
in  the  island.  This  curious  tree  cannot  be  raised 
from  seed  or  cutting,  neither  can  it  be  layered;  it 
can  only  propagate  itself  in  Nature's  own  fashion, 
and  the  seed  must  pass  through  the  body  of  a  bird  be- 
fore it  will  germinate.  So  it  is  fortunate,  being  the 
important  article  of  commerce  it  is,  that  the  supply  of 
trees  is  not  failing.  Bay  rum  is  made  from  the  leaves 
of  the  allspice  tree. 

Once  over  the  Monte  Diavolo,  quite  a  different 
Jamaica  unrolls  itself.  Broad  pasture-lands  replace 
the  tropical  house  at  Kew ;  rolling,  well-kept  fields  of 
guinea-grass,  surrounded  with  neat,  dry-stone  walls 
and  with  trim  gates,  give  an  impression  of  a  long- 
settled  land.  We  were  amongst  the  "pen-keepers," 
or  stock-raisers  here.  This  part  of  the  colony  cer- 
tainly has  a  home-like  look;  a  little  spoilt  as  regards 
resemblance  by  the  luxuriance  with  which  creepers 
and  plants,  which  at  home  we  cultivate  with  immense 


140  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

care  in  stove-houses,  here  riot  wild  in  lavish  masses 
over  the  stone  walls.  If  the  cherished  rarities  of  one 
country  are  unnoticed  weeds  in  another  land,  plenty 
of  analogies  in  other  respects  spring  to  the  mind.  I 
could  wish  though,  for  aesthetic  reasons,  that  our  Eng- 
lish lanes  grew  tropical  Begonias,  Coraline,  and  a 
peculiarly  attractive  Polypody  fern,  similar  to  ours, 
except  for  the  young  growths  being  rose-pink.  Be- 
tween Dry  Harbour  and  Brown's  Town  there  is  one 
succession  of  fine  country-places,  derelict  for  the  most 
part  now,  but  remnants  of  the  great  days  before  King 
Sugar  was  dethroned.  Here  the  opulent  sugar  plant- 
ers built  themselves  lordly  pleasure  houses  on  the 
high  limestone  formation.  Sugar  grows  best  on 
swampy  ground,  but  swamps  breed  fever,  so  these 
magnates  wisely  made  their  homes  on  the  limestone, 
and  so  increased  their  days. 

The  high-road  runs  past  one  stately  entrance-gate 
after  another;  entrances  with  high  Georgian,  carved 
stone  gateposts  surmounted  with  vases,  probably  sent 
out  ready-made  from  England;  Adam  entrances,  with 
sphinxes  and  the  stereotyped  Adam  semi-circular 
railings,  all  very  imposing,  and  all  alike  derelict. 
Beyond  the  florid  wrought-iron  gates  the  gravel  drives 
disappear  under  a  uniform  sea  of  grass;  the  once 
neatly  shaved  lawns  are  covered  with  dense  "bush.'* 
All  gone!  Planters  and  their  fine  houses  alike!  King 
Sugar  has  been  for  long  dethroned.  The  names  of 
these  places,  "Amity,"  "Concord,"  "Orange  Grove," 
"Harmony  Hall,"  "Friendship,"  and  "Fellowship 
Hall,"  all  rather  suggest  the  names  of  Masonic 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  141 

Lodges,  and  seem  to  point  to  a  certain  amount  of 
conviviality.  The  houses  themselves  are  hardly  up 
to  the  standard  of  their  ambitious  entrance-gates,  for 
they  are  mostly  of  the  stereotyped  Jamaican  "Great 
House"  type;  plain,  gabled  buildings  surrounded  by 
verandahs,  looking  rather  like  gigantic  meat  safes; 
but,  as  they  say  in  Ireland,  any  beggar  can  see  the 
gatehouse,  but  few  people  see  the  house  itself,  and  I 
imagine  that  skilled  craftsmen  were  rare  in  Jamaica 
in  the  eighteenth  century. 

The  attempt  to  reconstruct  the  life  of  one,  two,  or 
three  hundred  years  ago  has  always  appealed  to  me, 
especially  amidst  very  familiar  scenes.  The  stage- 
setting,  so  to  speak,  is  much  as  it  must  have  appeared 
to  our  predecessors,  but  the  actual  drama  played  on 
the  stage  must  have  been  so  very  different.  I  should 
have  liked  to  have  seen  these  planters'  houses  a  hun- 
dred years  ago,  swarming  with  guests,  whilst  the  cook- 
houses smoked  bravely  as  armies  of  black  slaves 
busied  themselves  in  preparing  one  of  the  gigantic 
repasts  described  by  Lady  Nugent.  Unfortunately 
to  enter  thoroughly  into  the  spirit  of  the  thing,  one 
would  have  been  forced,  in  her  words,  "to  eat  like  a 
cormorant,  and  to  drink  like  a  porpoise,"  with  the 
certainty  of  a  liver  attack  to  follow. 

Talking  of  bygone  days,  the  Fourth-Form  Room 
at  Harrow  has  been  unchanged  since  Queen  Eliza- 
beth's time,  and  still  retains  all  its  Elizabethan  fit* 
tings:  heavy,  clumsy,  solid  oak  armchairs  for  the 
masters,  each  one  equipped  with  a  stout,  iron-bound, 
oak  table,  and  strong  oak  benches  for  the  boys.  As 


142  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

a  youngster,  I  liked  to  think  that  I  was  sitting  on  the 
identical  benches  occupied,  more  than  three  hundred 
years  earlier,  by  Elizabethan  youths  in  trunk  hose 
and  doublets.  In  my  youth  I  was  much  impressed 
in  Canterbury  Cathedral  by  the  sight  of  the  deep 
grooves  worn  by  the  knees  of  countless  thousands  of 
pilgrims  to  Thomas  a  Beckett's  shrine  in  the  solid 
stone  of  the  steps  leading  from  the  Choir  to  the  retro- 
Choir,  steps  only  to  be  ascended  by  pilgrims  on  their 
knees.  At  Harrow  the  inch-thick  oak  planks  of  the 
Elizabethan  benches  have  been  completely  worn 
through  in  places  by  the  perpetual  fidgeting  of  hun- 
dreds of  generations  of  schoolboys,  which  is  as  re- 
markable in  its  way  as  the  knee  grooves  at  Canter- 
bury, though  the  attrition  is  due  to  a  different  por- 
tion of  the  human  anatomy.  As  a  boy  I  used  to 
wonder  how  the  trunk-hosed  Elizabethan  Harrovians 
addressed  each  other,  and  whether  they  found  it  very 
difficult  to  avoid  palpable  anachronisms  in  every  sen- 
tence. Their  conversations  would  probably  have  been 
something  like  this:  "Come  hither,  young  Smith;  I 
would  fain  speak  with  thee.  Only  one  semester  hast 
thou  been  here,  and  thy  place  in  the  school  is  but 
lowly,  yet  are  thy  hose  cross-gartered,  and  thy  dou- 
blet is  of  silk.  Thou  swankest,  and  that  is  not  seemly, 
therefore  shall  I  trounce  thee  right  lustily  to  teach 
thee  what  a  sorry  young  knave  thou  art."  "Nay,  good 
Master  Brown,  hearken  to  me.  This  morn  too  late  I 
kept  my  bed,  and  finding  not  my  buff  jerkin,  did  don 
in  haste  my  Sunday  doublet  of  changeable  taffeta, 
for  thou  wottest  the  ills  that  do  befall  those  late  for 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  143 

school.  Neither  by  my  halidom  knew  I,  that  being 
yet  of  tender  years,  it  was  not  meet  for  me  to  go  cross- 
gartered,  so  prithee,  gentle  youth,  cease  belabouring 
me  with  thy  feet." 

Incidentally,  I  suppose  that  Christopher  Columbus 
and  his  adventurers  all  landed  in  the  West  Indies 
in  1492,  clad  in  full  armour,  after  the  fashion  of  the 
age,  and  I  cannot  imagine  how  they  escaped  being 
baked  alive  in  the  scorching  heat.  Every  suit  of 
armour  must  have  been  a  portable  Dutch-oven,  in- 
flicting tortures  on  its  unfortunate  wearer.  The  little 
bay  near  Brown's  Town  where  Columbus  landed  in 
Jamaica,  on  his  third  voyage,  is  still  called  "Don 
Christopher's  Cove,"  though  the  Spanish  form  of  his 
name  is,  of  course,  Cristobal  Colon. 

Brown's  Town  is  the  most  beautiful  little  spot 
imaginable,  glowing  with  colour  from  its  wealth  of 
flowers.  It  had,  though,  another  attraction  for  me. 
The  hotel  was  kept  by  a  white  lady  of  most  "serious" 
views,  and  in  the  hotel  dining-room  I  found  a  book- 
shelf containing  all  the  books  given  me  as  a  child  for 
Sunday  reading.  There  they  all  were !  Little  Henry 
and  his  Bearer,  Anna  Ross  the  Orphan  of  Waterloo, 
Agaihos,  and  many,  many  more,,  including  a  well- 
remembered  American  book,  Melbourne  House.  The 
heroine  of  the  last-named  work,  an  odiously  priggish 
child  called  Daisy  Randolph,  refused  to  sing  on  a 
Sunday  when  desired  to  do  so  by  her  mother.  For 
this,  most  properly,  she  was  whipped.  A  devoted 
black  maid  who  shared  Daisy's  religious  views,  com- 
forted her  little  mistress  by  bringing  her  a  supper  of 


144  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

fried  oysters,  ice-cream  and  waffles.  As  a  child  I  used 
to  think  how  gladly  I  would  undergo  a  whipping 
every  Sunday  were  it  only  to  be  followed  by  a  supper 
of  fried  oysters,  ice-cream  and  waffles,  the  latter  a 
comestible  unknown  to  me,  but  suggesting  infinitely 
delicious  possibilities.  Unfortunately  I  can  never 
remember  having  been  asked  to  sing  on  Sunday,  or 
indeed  on  any  other  day. 

Speaking  seriously,  I  do  not  believe  that  these  emo- 
tionally pietistic  little  books  produced  any  good  effect 
on  the  children  into  whose  hands  they  were  put.  I 
remember  as  a  child  feeling  exasperated  against  the 
ultra-righteous  little  heroines  of  all  these  works.  I 
say  heroine,  because  no  boy  was  ever  given  a  chance 
as  a  household-reformer,  unless  he  had  happened  to 
have  been  born  a  hopeless  cripple,  or  were  suffering 
from  an  incurable  spinal  complaint.  In  the  latter 
case,  experience  induced  the  certainty  that  the  author 
would  be  unable  to  resist  the  temptation  of  introduc- 
ing a  pathetic  death-bed  scene.  Accordingly,  when 
the  little  hero's  spine  grew  increasingly  painful  and 
he  began  to  waste  away,  the  two  next  chapters  were 
carefully  skipped  in  order  to  be  spared  the  harrow- 
ing details  of  the  young  martyr's  demise.  Girls,  not 
being  so  invariably  doomed  to  an  early  death,  were 
alone  qualified  to  act  as  family  evangelists,  and  one 
knew  that  the  sweet  child's  influence  was  bound,  slowly 
but  surely,  to  permeate  the  entire  household.  Her 
mother  would  cease  to  care  only  for  "the  world  and 
its  fine  things,"  and  would  even  endeavour  to  curb 
her  inordinate  love  of  dress.  Her  father  would  prac- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  145 

tically  abandon  betting,  and,  should  he  have  been 
fortunate  enough  to  have  backed  a  winner,  would  at 
once  rush  on  conscience-stricken  feet  to  pour  the 
whole  of  his  gains  into  the  nearest  missionary  collect- 
ing-box. Even  the  cynical  old  bachelor  uncle,  who 
habitually  scoffed  at  his  niece's  precocious  piety,  be- 
came gradually  influenced  by  her  shining  example, 
and  would  awake  one  morning  to  find  himself  the 
amazed,  yet  gratified,  possessor  of  "a  new  heart." 

In  order  to  renew  my  acquaintance  with  the  whole 
of  these  friends  of  my  youth,  I  remained  two  days 
longer  in  Brown's  Town,  with  the  assent  of  the  good- 
natured  Guardsman. 

Joss,  the  Guardsman,  had  a  fine  baritone  voice,  and 
the  English  rector  of  Brown's  Town,  after  hearing 
him  sing  in  the  hotel,  at  once  commandeered  him  for 
his  church  on  Sunday,  though  warning  him  that  he 
would  be  the  only  white  member  of  the  choir.  My 
services  were  also  requisitioned  for  the  organ.  That 
church  at  Brown's  Town  is,  by  the  way,  the  most 
astonishingly  spacious  and  handsome  building  to  find 
in  an  inland  country  parish  in  Jamaica.  On  the  Sun- 
day, seeing  the  Guardsman  in  conversation  with  the 
local  tenor,  a  gentleman  of  absolutely  ebony-black 
complexion,  at  the  vestry  door,  both  of  them  in  their 
cassocks  and  surplices,  I  went  to  fetch  my  camera, 
for  here  at  last  was  a  chance  of  satisfying  the  Guards- 
man's mania  for  turning  his  trip  to  the  West  Indies 
to  profitable  account.  Every  one  is  familiar  with  the 
ingenious  advertisements  of  the  proprietors  of  a  cer- 
tain well-known  brand  of  whisky.  My  photograph 


146  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

would,  unquestionably,  be  a  picture  in  "Black  and 
White,"  both  as  regards  complexion  and  costume,  but 
on  second  thoughts,  the  likenesses  of  two  choir-men 
in  cassocks  and  surplices  seemed  to  me  inappropriate 
as  an  advertisement  for  a  whisky,  however  excellent 
it  might  be,  though  they  had  both  unquestionably  been 
engaged  in  singing  spiritual  songs. 

It  was  Archbishop  Magee  who,  when  Bishop  of 
Peterborough,  encountered  a  drunken  navvy  one  day 
as  he  was  walking  through  the  poorer  quarters  of 
that  town.  The  navvy  staggered  out  of  a  public- 
house,  diffusing  a  powerful  aroma  of  gin  all  round 
him ;  when  he  saw  his  Chief  Pastor  he  raised  his  hand 
in  a  gesture  of  mock  benediction  and  called  jeeringly 
to  the  Bishop,  "The  Lord  be  with  you!"  "And  with 
thy  spirits"  answered  Magee  like  a  flash. 

The  drive  from  Brown's  Town  across  the  centre  of 
the  island  to  Mandeville  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
things  that  can  be  imagined.  It  can  only  be  under- 
taken with  mules,  and  then  requires  twelve  hours, 
the  road  running  through  the  heart  of  the  ginger- 
growing  district,  of  which  Boroughbridge  is  the 
headquarters.  The  Guardsman  was  more  than  ever 
confirmed  in  his  opinion  that  Jamaica  was  only  a 
growing  grocer's  shop,  especially  as  we  had  passed 
through  dense  groves  of  nutmeg-trees  in  the  morning. 
I  have  a  confused  recollection  of  deep  valleys  trav- 
ersed by  rushing,  clear  streams,  of  towering  pinnacles 
of  rock,  and  of  lovely  forest  glades,  the  whole  of  them 
clothed  with  the  most  gorgeous  vegetation  that  can  be 
conceived,  of  strange  and  unfamiliar  shapes  glowing 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  147 

with  unknown  blossoms,  with  blue  mountains  in  the 
distance.  It  was  one  ever-changing  panorama  of 
loveliness,  with  beauty  of  outline,  beauty  of  detail,  and 
unimaginable  beauty  of  colour. 

We  were  forced  to  return  to  Kingston,  for  a  French 
Cruiser  Squadron  was  paying  a  prolonged  visit  to 
Jamaica,  and  the  Governor  required  my  services  as 
interpreter. 

That  visit  of  the  French  Fleet  was  quite  an  his- 
torical event,  for  it  was  the  first  outward  manifesta- 
tion of  the  Anglo-French  Entente.  The  Anglo- 
French  Convention  had  been  signed  two  years  previ- 
ously, on  April  8,  1904.  I  cannot  say  with  whom 
the  idea  of  terminating  the  five-hundred-year-old  feud 
between  Britain  and  France  originated,  but  I  know 
who  were  the  instruments  who  translated  the  idea 
into  practical  effect:  they  were  M.  Paul  Cambon, 
French  Ambassador  in  London,  and  my  brother-in- 
law,  Lord  Lansdowne,  then  Foreign  Secretary;  be- 
tween them  they  smoothed  down  asperities,  removed 
ancient  grievances,  and  lubricated  points  of  contact 
where  friction  might  arise.  No  one,  probably,  antici- 
pated at  the  time  the  tremendous  consequences  of  the 
Anglo-French  Convention,  nor  dreamed  that  it  was 
destined,  after  the  most  terrible  conflict  of  all  time, 
to  change  the  entire  history  of  the  world. 

In  the  early  part  of  1905  the  Emperor  William 
had  made  his  theatrical  triumphal  progress  through 
the  Turkish  dominions,  and  on  March  31  of  the  same 
year  he  landed  at  Tangier  in  great  state.  What  exact 
agreement  the  Emperor  concluded  with  the  Sultan  of 


148  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

Morocco  we  do  not  know,  but  from  that  moment  the 
French  met  with  nothing  but  difficulties  in  Morocco, 
their  own  particular  "sphere  of  influence"  under  the 
Anglo-French  Convention.  All  the  reforms  proposed 
by  France  were  flouted  by  the  Sultan,  and  Germans 
claimed  equal  commercial  and  economic  rights  with 
the  French.  A  conference  met  at  Algeciras  on  Janu- 
ary 10,  1906,  to  settle  these  and  other  disputed  ques- 
tions, but  the  French  authorities  viewed  the  situation 
with  the  utmost  anxiety.  They  were  convinced  that 
the  "mailed  fist"  would  be  brandished  in  their  faces 
on  the  smallest  provocation,  and  that  the  French 
Navy  might  have  to  intervene. 

Now  came  the  first  visible  result  of  the  entente. 
The  British  Government  offered  the  hospitality  of 
Kingston  Harbour,  with  coaling  facilities,  for  an  un- 
limited period  to  the  French  Cruiser  Squadron,  then 
in  the  West  Indies.  Kingston  is  not  only  the  finest 
harbour  in  the  Antilles,  but  the  coaling  arrangements 
are  far  superior  to  any  in  the  French  ports,  and, 
most  important  point  of  all,  Kingston  would  be  some 
twenty-four  hours  steaming  nearer  to  Gibraltar  and 
the  Mediterranean,  in  case  of  emergency,  than  the 
French  islands  of  Guadeloupe  or  Martinique. 

The  arrival,  then,  of  the  French  Fleet  was  a  great 
event,  and,  acting  possibly  on  a  hint  from  home,  every 
attention  was  shown  to  the  French  officers  by  the 
Governor,  Sir  Alexander  Swettenham.  He  enter- 
tained forty  French  officers  to  luncheon  at  King's 
House,  and  his  French  having  grown  rather  rusty, 
asked  me  to  welcome  them  in  his  name.  I  took 


great  care  in  preparing  my  speech,  and  began  by 
ascertaining  whether  any  of  the  reporters  who  would' 
be  present  understood  French.  I  was  much  relieved 
to  find  that  not  one  of  them  knew  a  single  word  of 
the  language,  for  that  gave  me  a  free  hand.  The  table, 
on  the  occasion  of  the  luncheon,  was  decorated  in  a 
fashion  only  possible  in  the  West  Indies.  One  end 
of  the  table  glowed,  a  scarlet  carpet  of  the  splendid 
flowers  of  the  Amherstia  nobilis,  looking  like  red  satin 
tassels,  then  came  a  carpet  of  the  great  white  trumpets 
of  the  Beaumontia,  on  a  ground  of  white  stephanotis. 
Lastly  a  blue  carpet  of  giant  solanums,  interspersed 
with  the  dainty  blue  blossoms  of  the  Petrcea,  the  whole 
forming  the  most  magnificent  tricolour  flag  imagin- 
able. The  French  officers  much  appreciated  this 
attention. 

I  spoke  for  twenty  minutes,  and  fairly  let  myself 
go.  With  a  feeling  of  security  due  to  the  inability 
of  the  reporters  to  follow  French,  I  said  the  most 
abominably  indiscreet  things,  considering  that  it  was 
an  official  entertainment  in  an  official  residence,  but 
I  think  that  I  must  have  been  quite  eloquent,  for, 
when  I  sat  down,  the  French  Admiral  crossed  the 
room  and  shook  hands  warmly  with  me,  saying,  "Mon- 
sieur, au  nom  de  la  France  je  vous  remercie." 

Joss,  the  Guardsman,  struck  up  an  intimate  al- 
liance with  a  young  French  naval  lieutenant  of  his 
own  age.  As  the  Guardsman  knew  just  two  words 
of  French,  and  the  Frenchman  was  totally  ignorant 
of  English,  I  cannot  conceive  how  they  understood  one 
another,  but  they  seemed  to  take  great  delight  in  each 


150  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

other's  society,  exploring  together  every  corner  of 
Kingston,  both  by  day  and  by  night,  addressing  each 
other  as  "Henri,  old  man,"  or  "Joss  vieux  copain," 
and  jabbering  away  incessantly,  each  in  his  own 
tongue. 

Lady  Swettenham,  the  Governor's  wife,  paid  a 
formal  visit  to  the  Admiral  on  board  his  flag-ship, 
the  Desai^j  and  I  accompanied  her.  The  Admiral 
told  Lady  Swettenham  that  she  and  Lady  Lathom, 
who  was  with  her,  must  consent  to  be  tied  up  with 
ribbons  bearing  the  ship's  name,  the  French  naval 
fashion  of  doing  honour  to  ladies  of  distinction.  The 
Flag-Lieutenant  came  in  and  took  a  good  look  at 
the  ladies'  dresses ;  Lady  Swettenham  being  in  white, 
Lady  Lathom  in  pale  mauve.  Presently  "Flags" 
reappeared  bearing  white  and  mauve  ribbons  (of 
the  exact  shade  of  her  dress)  for  Lady  Lathom,  and 
pale  pink  and  blue  ones  for  Lady  Swettenham,  each 
about  four  yards  long.  Proverbially  gallant  as  are 
British  naval  officers,  the  idea  of  first  studying  the 
ladies'  dresses  would  not  have  occurred  to  them ;  that 
little  touch  requires  a  Frenchman.  We  wished  to 
take  our  leave,  but  the  Admiral  begged  us  to  remain ; 
there  was  evidently  something  coming.  It  was  an 
intensely  hot  afternoon,  and  the  heavy,  red-plush 
furniture  and  curtains  of  the  Admiral's  cabin  seemed 
to  add  to  the  heat.  His  face  wore  the  expression 
some  people  assume  when  they  are  preparing  a  treat 
for  a  child.  "Flags"  looked  in  and  nodded.  "Faites 
entrer  alors,"  ordered  the  Admiral,  still  smiling,  and 
a  steward  came  in  bearing  six  bottles  of  Guinness' 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  151 

stout.  "You  see  that  I  know  what  you  like,"  added 
the  Admiral,  beaming.  On  a  broiling  hot  afternoon 
in  Jamaica,  tepid  stout  is  the  very  last  thing  in  the 
world  that  one  would  choose  to  drink,  but  the  Ad- 
miral was  convinced  that  it  was  the  habitual  beverage 
of  all  English  people,  and  had  actually  sent  his  stew- 
ard ashore  to  procure  the  precious  liquid.  It  was  a 
delicate  attention,  but  it  so  happened  that  both  ladies 
had  a  positive  aversion  to  stout ;  they  drank  it  bravely 
notwithstanding,  and  we  all  assumed  expressions  of  in- 
tense delight,  to  the  Admiral's  immense  gratification. 

It  was  the  Admiral's  first  visit  to  the  West  Indies, 
and  he  did  not  like  them.  "Non,  madame.  Des  nuits 
sans  fraicheur,  des  fleurs  sans  odeur,  des  fruits  sans 
saveur,  des  femmes  sans  pudeur;  voila  les  Antilles!" 

The  Guardsman  and  I,  anxious  to  see  more  of  this 
lovely  island,  went  off  by  train  to  the  western  ex- 
tremity of  Jamaica.  The  engineer  who  surveyed 
the  Jamaican  Government  Railway  must  have  been 
an  extremely  eccentric  individual.  There  is  a  com- 
paratively level  and  very  fertile  belt  near  the  sea- 
coast,  extending  right  round  the  island.  Here  nearly 
all  the  produce  is  grown.  Instead  of  building  his 
railway  through  this  flat,  thickly  populated  zone,  the 
engineer  chose  to  construct  his  line  across  the  moun- 
tain range  of  the  interior,  a  district  very  sparsely  in- 
habited, and  hardly  cultivated  at  all.  The  Jamaica 
Government  Railway  is  admirably  designed  if  re- 
garded as  a  scenic  railway,  but  is  hardly  successful  if 
considered  as  a  commercial  undertaking.  The  train 
winds  slowly  through  the  "Cockpit"  country;  now 


152  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

panting  laboriously  up  steep  inclines,  now  sliding 
down  a  long  gradient,  with  a  prodigious  grinding  of 
brakes  and  squeaking1  of  wheels.  The  scenery  is 
gorgeous,  but  there  is  no  produce  to  handle  at  the 
various  stations,  and  but  few  passengers  to  pick  up. 
As  we  found  every  hotel  full  at  our  destination,  we 
had  to  take  refuge  in  a  boarding-house,  though  warned 
that  it  was  only  for  coloured  people.  We  found  four 
subfusc  young  men,  with  complexions  shaded  from 
pale  coffee-colour  to  deep  sepia,  at  supper  in  the 
dining-room. 

"May  I  inquire,  sir/'  said  the  Guardsman,  with 
ready  tact,  to  the  lightest-complexioned  of  the  young 
men,  "how  long  you  have  been  out  from  England?" 

"I  was  born  in  Jamaica,  sir,"  answered  the  im- 
mensely gratified  youth,  "and  have  never  left  it." 

"And  do  you,  sir,"  continued  the  Guardsman  to  the 
swarthiest  of  them  all,  "feel  the  heat  of  the  climate 
much?  It  is  rather  a  change  from  England,  isn't  it?" 

"I,  too,  sir,  have  never  left  Jamaica,"  replied  the 
delighted  young  man. 

So  enchanted  were  these  dusky  youths  at  having 
been  mistaken  for  white  men,  that  they  simply  over- 
whelmed us  with  attentions  during  the  rest  of  our  stay 
there. 

The  Guardsman  was  bent  on  shooting  an  alligator, 
and  having  heard  that  these  pleasant  saurians 
swarmed  in  a  swamp  beyond  the  town,  went  there 
at  dusk  with  his  rifle,  and  I,  very  foolishly,  was  in- 
duced to  accompany  him.  There  is  something  most 
uncanny  in  these  tracts  of  swamp  at  nightfall.  The 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  153 

twisted,  distorted  trees,  the  gleaming,  evil-smelling 
pools  of  water,  and  the  immense,  snake-like  lianes 
hanging  from  the  branches  all  give  one  a  curious  sense 
of  unreality,  epecially  on  a  moonlight  night.  It  is 
like  a  Gustave  Dore  drawing  of  a  bewitched  forest. 
The  Guardsman  splashed  about  in  the  shallow  water, 
but  never  a  sign  of  an  alligator  did  we  see.  Giant  tor- 
toises crawled  lazily  about,  just  visible  in  the  half- 
light  under  the  trees ;  innumerable  land-crabs  scurried 
to  and  fro,  and  unclean  reptiles  pattered  over  the 
fetid  ooze,  but  we  saw  no  more  alligators  than  we 
should  have  seen  in  St.  James's  Park. 

There  was  a  little  group  of  coral  islands,  decked 
with  plumes  of  cocoa-nut  palms,  on  the  other  side 
of  the  bay,  close  to  a  great  mangrove  swamp,  and  the 
Guardsman  insisted  on  our  hiring  a  boat  and  rowing 
out  there,  blazing  though  the  sun  was.  These  man- 
grove swamps  are  evil-looking  places.  The  man- 
grove, the  only  tree,  I  believe,  that  actually  grows  in 
salt  water,  has  unnaturally  green  leaves.  The  trees 
grow  on  things  like  stilts,  digging  their  roots  deep 
into  the  foul  slime.  When  the  tide  is  out,  these  stilts 
stand  grey  and  naked  below  the  canopy  of  vivid  green- 
ery, and  amongst  them  obscene,  crab-like  things  crawl 
over  the  festering  black  ooze.  The  water  in  the  laby- 
rinth of  channels  between  the  mangroves  was  thick 
and  discoloured;  there  was  not  a  breath  of  air,  the 
heat  was  unbearable,  and  the  whole  place  steamed 
with  decay  and  disease. 

Yet  somehow  the  scene  seemed  very  familiar,  for 
one  had  read  of  it,  again  and  again,  in  a  hundred  boys' 


154  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

books.  The  same  mental  process  was  at  work  both  in 
myself  and  in  Joss,  but  it  took  different  forms.  I 
composed  in  my  mind  a  chapter  of  a  thrilling  romance. 
"Suddenly  down  one  of  the  glassy  channels  between 
the  mangroves  we  saw  the  pirate  felucca  approaching 
us  rapidly.  She  had  got  out  her  sweeps  and  looked 
like  some  gigantic  water-insect  as  she  made  her  way 
towards  us,  churning  the  sleeping  waters  into  foam. 
At  her  tiller  stood  a  tall  form,  which  I  recognised 
with  a  shudder  as  that  of  the  villainous  mulatto  Pedro, 
and  her  black  flag  drooped  limply  in  the  stagnant  air. 
Our  gallant  captain  at  once  ordered  our  carronades 
to  be  loaded  with  canister,  and  then  addressed  the 
crew.  'Yonder  gang  of  dastardly  miscreants  think  to 
capture  us,  my  lads,'  cried  Captain  Trueman,  'but 
little  they  know  the  material  they  have  to  deal  with. 
Even  the  boys,  Bob  and  Jim,  young  as  they  are, 
will  show  them  the  sort  of  stuff  a  British  tar  is  made 
of,  if  I  am  not  mistaken.'  On  hearing  our  gallant 
captain's  noble  words,  Jim  and  I  exchanged  a  silent 
hand-grip,  and  Jim,  snatching  up  a  matchlock,  levelled 
it  at  the  head  of  the  mulatto  Pedro,  but  at  that  very 
moment,"  etc.,  etc.,  etc.,  though  I  much  fear  that  the 
remainder  of  Bob,  the  Boy  Buccaneer  of  the  Bahamas 
will  remain  unwritten. 

Our  surroundings  suggested  the  same  idea  to  Joss, 
but  were  prompting  the  Guardsman  to  more  direct 
action.  From  one  or  two  of  his  remarks  I  had  fore- 
seen the  possibility  of  his  making  an  incredible  sug- 
gestion to  me,  and  gradually  suspicion  ripened  into 
horrified  certainty. 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  155 

"Would  you  very  much  mind — "  he  began,  "at  least 
if  you  are  not  too  old — I  should  so  like — we  shall 
never  get  another  opportunity  like  this — would  you 
very  much  mind — "  and  out  it  came,  "playing  at 
pirates  for  a  little  while?" 

It  was  unthinkable !  The  Guardsman  was  actually 
proposing  to  a  staid,  middle-aged  gentleman  of  forty- 
eight,  an  ex-Member  of  Parliament,  a  church- warden, 
and  an  ex-editor,  to  play  at  pirates  with  him,  as  though 
he  were  ten  years  old.  I  pointed  out  how  unusual 
it  was  for  an  officer  in  the  Coldstream,  aged  twenty- 
six,  to  think  even  of  so  puerile  an  amusement,  but  to 
include  a  dignified,  earnest-minded,  elderly  man  in  the 
invitation  was  really  an  unprecedented  outrage.  My 
justifiable  indignation  increased  when  I  found  that 
the  Guardsman  actually  expected  me  at  my  age  to 
enact  the  role  of  "Carlos,  the  Cut-throat  of  the  Carib- 
bean." 

Our  discussion  was  interrupted  by  a  violent  shiver- 
ing fit  which  seized  me,  accompanied  by  a  sudden, 
racking  headache.  The  swamps  had  done  their  work 
on  the  previous  evening.  By  night-time  I  was  in  a 
high  fever,  and  when  we  returned  to  Kingston  next 
day  by  train,  I,  with  a  temperature  up  to  anywhere, 
was  hardly  conscious  of  where  I  was  or  what  I  was 
doing. 

I  was  put  to  bed  at  King's  House,  and  the  fever 
rapidly  turned  to  malarial  gastritis.  The  distressing 
feature  connected  with  this  complaint  is  that  it  is  im- 
possible to  retain  any  nourishment  whatever.  An 
attack  of  fever  is  so  common  in  hot  countries  that  this 


156  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

would  not  be  worth  mentioning,  except  as  an  example 
of  the  curious  way  in  which  Nature  sometimes 
prompts  her  own  remedy.  The  doctor  tried  half  the 
drugs  in  the  pharmacopeia  on  me,  the  fever  simply 
laughed  at  them  all.  Nothing  could  have  exceeded 
the  kindness  of  Sir  Alexander  and  Lady  Swetten- 
ham  during  my  illness,  but  as  I  could  take  no  nourish- 
ment of  any  kind,  I  naturally  grew  very  weak.  The 
doctor  urged  me  to  cancel  my  passage  and  await  the 
next  steamer  to  England,  but  something  told  me  that 
as  soon  as  I  felt  the  motion  of  a  ship  under  me,  the 
persistent  sickness  would  stop.  I  also  felt  sure  that 
were  I  to  remain  in  Jamaica  another  fortnight,  I 
should  remain  there  permanently,  and  gruesome  mem- 
ories haunted  me  of  an  undertaker's  shop  in  Kings- 
ton, which  displayed  a  prominent  sign,  "Handsome 
black  and  gold  funeral  goods"  (note  the  euphemism!) 
"delivered  in  any  part  of  the  city  within  two  hours  of 
telephone  call."  As  I  had  no  desire  to  make  a  more 
intimate  acquaintance  with  the  "funeral  goods,"  how- 
ever handsome,  I  insisted  on  being  carried  down  to 
the  mail-steamer,  and  was  put  to  bed  in  the  liner.  It 
was  blowing  very  fresh,  and  we  heard  that  there  was 
a  heavy  sea  outside.  As  long  as  we  lay  alongside  the 
jetty  in  the  smooth  waters  of  the  harbour,  the  dis- 
tressing symptoms  persisted  at  their  regular  intervals, 
but  no  sooner  had  the  ship  cleared  Port  Royal  and 
begun  to  lift  to  the  very  heavy  sea  outside,  than  the 
sickness  stopped  as  though  by  magic.  The  Port 
Kingston,  of  the  now  defunct  Imperial  Direct  West 
India  Mail  Line,  was  really  a  champion  pitcher,  for 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  157 

she  had  an  immense  beam  for  her  length,  and  a  great 
amount  of  top -hamper  in  the  way  of  deck-houses.  As 
the  violent  motion  continued,  I  was  able  to  take  as 
much  food  as  I  wanted  with  impunity,  and  next  day, 
the  heavy  seas  still  tossing  the  Port  Kingston  about 
like  a  cork,  I  was  up  and  about,  perfectly  well,  free 
from  fever  and  able,  as  Lady  Nugent  would  have 
said,  "to  eat  like  a  cormorant."  I  noted,  however, 
that  the  motion  of  the  ship  seemed  to  produce  on  most 
of  the  passengers  an  exactly  opposite  effect  to  what 
it  did  on  myself. 

The  voyage  from  Jamaica,  by  that  line,  was  rather 
a  trying  one,  for  in  the  interest  of  the  cargo  of  ba- 
nanas, the  Captain  steered  straight  for  the  New- 
foundland Banks,  so  in  five  days  the  temperature 
dropped  from  90°  to  40°,  and  the  unfortunate  West 
Indian  passengers  would  cower  and  shiver  in  their 
thickest  clothes  over  the  radiators,  where  the  steam 
hissed  and  sizzled. 

Before  we  had  been  at  sea  two  days,  we  heard  of  a 
most  gallant  act  that  had  been  done  by  one  in  our 
midst.  The  mail-boats  of  the  Imperial  Direct  Line 
each  carried  from  six  to  eight  apprentices,  young  lads 
in  process  of  training  as  officers  in  the  Merchant  Serv- 
ice. The  apprentices  on  board  the  Port  Kingston  had 
had  a  great  deal  of  hard  work  whilst  the  ship  was  load- 
ing her  cargo  of  fruit  at  Port  Henderson  previous  to 
our  voyage  home,  so  the  Captain  granted  them  all  a 
holiday,  lent  them  one  of  the  ship's  boats,  provided 
them  with  luncheon  and  fishing  lines,  and  sent  them 


158  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

out  for  a  day's  sailing  and  fishing  in  Kingston  Har- 
bour. 

They  sailed  and  caught  fish,  and,  as  the  afternoon 
wore  on,  began  to  "rag,"  as  boys  will  do.  They  ragged 
so  effectually  that  they  managed  to  capsize  the  boat, 
and  were,  all  of  them,  thrown  into  the  water. 

Curiously  enough,  three  of  the  eight  apprentices 
were  unable  to  swim.  The  senior  apprentice,  a  boy 
named  Robert  Clinch,  seventeen  years  old,  swam  out, 
and  brought  back  two  of  his  young  companions  in 
safety  to  the  keel  of  the  upturned  boat.  Clinch  was 
just  starting  to  bring  in  the  third  lad,  the  youngest 
of  them  all,  when  there  was  a  great  swirl  in  the  water, 
the  grey  outline  of  a  shark  rose  to  the  surface,  turned 
on  his  back,  and  dragged  the  little  fellow  down. 
Clinch,  without  one  instant's  hesitation,  dived  under 
the  shark  and  attacked  him  with  his  bare  fists.  It  was 
an  immensely  courageous  thing  to  do,  for  where  there 
is  one  shark  there  will  probably  be  many,  and  the  boy 
knew  that  he  ran  the  risk  of  being  torn  to  pieces  at 
any  minute.  So  rigorous  was  his  onslaught  on  the 
shark  that  the  fish  released  his  victim,  though  not  be- 
fore he  had  bitten  off  both  the  little  fellow's  legs  at 
the  thigh.  Clinch  swam  back  with  the  mangled  body 
of  his  young  friend  to  the  upturned  boat,  and  man- 
aged to  get  him  on  to  the  keel,  but  the  poor  lad  bled 
to  death  in  a  few  minutes. 

Young  Clinch  was  a  most  modest  boy.  Nothing 
could  get  him  to  talk  of  his  exploit,  and  should  the  sub- 
ject  be  mentioned,  he  would  grow  very  red,  shuffle  his 
feet,  and  turn  the  conversation  into  some  other  chan- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  159 

nel.  The  passengers  drew  up  an  address,  with  which 
they  presented  him,  as  a  mark  of  their  appreciation 
of  his  act  of  heroism,  but  it  was  with  great  difficulty 
that  Clinch  could  be  induced  to  accept  it. 

The  episode  made  such  an  impression  on  me  that 
I  wrote  out  an  account  of  it,  got  it  attested  and  signed 
by  the  Captain,  and  forwarded  it  to  Lord  Knollys, 
an  old  friend  of  mine,  who  was  then  Private  Secretary 
to  King  Edward,  asking  him  to  bring  the  matter  to 
his  Majesty's  notice. 

I  am  pleased  to  add  that,  in  due  course,  Midship- 
man Robert  Clinch  was  duly  summoned  to  Bucking- 
ham Palace,  where  he  received  the  well-earned  Albert 
Medal  for  saving  life,  and  also  the  Medal  of  the  Royal 
Humane  Society. 

I  should  very  much  like  to  know  what  Robert 
Clinch's  subsequent  career  has  been. 


CHAPTER  VI 

The  Spanish  Main — Its  real  meaning — A  detestable  region — 
Tarpon  and  sharks — The  isthmus — The  story  of  the  great 
pearl  "La  Pelegrina" — The  Irishman  and  the  Peruvian — 
The  vagaries  of  the  Southern  Cross — The  great  Kingston 
earthquake — Point  of  view  of  small  boys — Some  earthquake 
incidents — "Flesh-coloured"  stockings — Negro  hysteria — A 
family  incident,  and  the  unfortunate  Archbishop — Port 
Royal — A  sugar  estate — A  scene  from  a  boy's  book  in  real 
life — Cocoa-nuts — Reef-fishing — Two  young  men  of  great 
promise. 

WITH  so  firm  a  hold  had  Jamaica  captured  me  that 
January  3,  1907,  found  me  again  starting  for  that 
delightful  island,  this  time  accompanied  by  a  very 
favourite  nephew,  who,  poor  lad,  was  destined  to  fall 
in  Belgium  in  the  very  early  days  of  the  war. 

We  purposely  chose  the  longer  route  by  Barbados, 
Trinidad,  and  the  Spanish  Main,  in  order  to  be  able 
to  visit  the  Panama  Canal  Works,  then  only  in  their 
semi-final  stage. 

A  curious  misapprehension  seems  to  exist  about 
that  term  "Spanish  Main,"  which  somehow  suggests 
to  me  infinite  romance;  conquistadores,  treasure-ships, 
gentlemen-adventurers,  and  bold  buccaneers.  It  is 
merely  a  shortened  way  of  writing  Spanish  Main- 
land}  and  refers  not  to  the  sea,  but  to  the  land;  the 
terra  firma,  as  opposed  to  the  Antilles ;  the  continent, 
in  distinction  to  the  islands.  By  a  natural  process  the 
term  came  to  be  applied  to  the  sea  washing  the  Span- 

160 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  161 

ish  Mainland,  but  "main"  does  not  mean  sea,  and 
never  did.  It  is  only  in  the  last  hundred  years  that 
poets  have  begun  to  use  "main"  as  synonymous  with 
sea,  probably  because  there  are  so  many  more  rhymes 
to  the  former  than  to  the  latter,  and  it  sounds  a  fine 
dashing  sort  of  term,  but  I  can  find  no  trace  of  a 
warrant  for  the  use  of  the  word  in  this  sense  before 
1810.  "Main"  refers  to  the  land,  not  to  the  water. 

I  can  imagine  no  more  detestable  spot  anywhere 
than  this  Spanish  Main,  in  spite  of  the  distant  view 
of  the  mighty  Cordilleras,  around  whose  summits  per- 
petual thunderstorms  seem  to  play,  and  from  which 
fierce  gales  swoop  down  on  the  sea.  Clammy,  suffo- 
cating heat,  fever-dealing  swamps,  decaying  towns, 
with  an  effete  population  and  a  huge  rainfall,  do  not 
constitute  an  attractive  whole.  Owing  to  the  intense 
humidity,  even  the  gales  bring  no  refreshing  coolness 
in  their  train. 

It  is  easy  to  understand  the  importance  the  old 
Spanish  conquistadores  attached  to  the  Isthmus  of 
Panama,  for  all  the  gold  brought  from  Peru  had  to  be 
carried  across  it  on  mule-back  to  the  Atlantic  coast, 
before  it  could  be  shipped  to  Spain.  Even  Columbus, 
who  did  not  know  of  the  existence  of  the  Pacific, 
founded  a  short-lived  settlement  at  Porto  Bello,  or 
Nombre  de  Dios,  in  1502,  and  Martin  de  Enciso  es- 
tablished another  at  Darien  in  1502,  but  the  com- 
bined effects  of  the  deadly  climate  and  of  hostile  In- 
dians exterminated  the  settlers.  After  Vasco  Nunez 
de  Balboa  had  discovered  the  Pacific  on  September 
26,  1513,  the  strategic  importance  of  the  Isthmus  be- 


162  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

came  obvious,  so  Cartagena  on  the  Caribbean,  and 
Panama  on  the  Pacific  were  founded.  The  ill-advised 
and  ill-fated  enterprise  of  the  Scotsman  William  Pat- 
terson came  much  later,  in  1698.  The  Scottish  set- 
tlement of  Darien,  from  which  such  marvellous  re- 
sults were  expected,  lasted  barely  two  years.  In  1700 
the  few  survivors  of  the  adventurers  from  Scotland 
were  expelled  by  the  Spaniards,  ruined  alike  in  health 
and  pocket.  The  fever-stricken  coasts  of  the  Spanish 
Main  needed  but  little  defence  of  forts  and  guns,  to 
protect  them  against  the  aggressive  efforts  of  other 
European  nations. 

At  our  first  calling-place  after  leaving  England, 
we  heard  of  the  total  destruction  of  Kingston,  our 
destination,  by  the  great  earthquake  of  January  14, 
but  it  was  too  late  to  turn  back,  so  on  we  went,  past 
breezy  Barbados,  and  sweltering  Trinidad,  to  the 
Spanish  Main.  The  curious  little  nautilus,  or  Por- 
tuguese man-of-war,  is  very  common  in  these  waters, 
and  can  be  seen  in  quantities  sailing  along  the  sur- 
face with  their  crude-magenta  membranes  extended 
to  the  breeze.  Cartagena  de  Indias,  a  city  of  narrow 
streets,  high  houses  and  massive  ramparts,  is  a  curi- 
ous piece  of  seventeenth-century  Spain  to  find  trans- 
planted to  the  Trppics.  I  imagine  that  all  its  inhabi- 
tants, by  the  law  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest,  must 
be  immune  from  fever,  which  is  certainly  not  the  case 
in  that  most  unattractive  spot  Colon. 

It  may  interest  any  prospective  visitors  to  Colon  to 
learn  that  there  is  excellent  tarpon  fishing  in  Colon 
Harbour  itself.  My  nephew,  having  provided  him- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  168 

self  with  a  tarpon  rod,  hooked  a  splendid  fish  from  the 
deck  of  the  mail-steamer,  the  bait  being  a  "cavalle," 
a  local  white  fish  of  some  3  Ibs.  My  nephew  played 
the  tarpon  for  nearly  two  hours ;  the  fish  fought  splen- 
didly, shooting  continuously  into  the  air,  a  curved 
glittering  bar  of  silver,  180  Ibs.  of  giant  gleaming  her- 
ring, when  the  line  (a  stout  piano  wire)  suddenly 
snapped  as  he  was  being  reeled  in.  A  tarpon  fisher- 
man has  a  leathern  "bucket"  strapped  in  front  of  him, 
in  which  to  rest  the  butt  of  his  rod,  otherwise  the  strain 
would  be  too  great.  Whilst  my  nephew  was  playing 
his  tarpon,  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  hook  a  large 
shark,  and  there  was  little  fear  of  my  line  parting,  for 
it  was  a  light  chain  of  solid  steel.  I  was  surprised  that 
the  brute  showed  so  little  fight,  he  let  me  tow  him 
about  where  I  liked.  We  fixed  a  running  noose  to 
the  wire  rope  of  a  derrick,  and  after  a  few  attempts 
succeeded  in  dropping  it  over  the  shark's  head,  and  in 
tautening  it  behind  his  fins ;  the  steam-derrick  did  the 
rest.  I  could  see  distinctly  six  or  seven  pilot-fish  play- 
ing round  the  shark.  They  were  of  about  a  pound 
weight,  and  were  marked  exactly  like  our  fresh-water 
perch,  except  that  their  stripes  were  bright  blue  on 
a  golden  ground.  As  the  shark  is  rather  stupid,  and 
has  but  poor  eyesight,  the  function  of  the  pilot-fish 
is  to  ascertain  where  food  is  to  be  found,  and  then  to 
show  their  master  the  way  to  it,  after  which,  like  the 
sycophants  they  are,  they  live  on  the  crumbs  that  fall 
from  his  mouth.  The  pilot-fish  only  deserted  their 
master  when  the  derrick  hauled  him  out  of  the  water, 
and  at  the  same  time  some  dozen  remoras,  or  sucking- 


164  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

fish,  looking  like  disgusted  bloated  leeches,  let  go 
their  hold  on  the  shark  and  dropped  back  into  the  sea. 

No  human  being  would  voluntarily  pay  a  second 
visit  to  Colon,  a  dirty,  mean  collection  of  shanties, 
with  inhabitants  worthy  of  it.  The  principal  article 
of  commerce  seemed  to  be  black-calico  "funeral  suits," 
a  sartorial  novelty  to  me. 

Since  the  Americans  took  command  of  the  Canal 
Zone  they  have  achieved  wonders  in  the  way  of  sani- 
tation, and  have  practically  extirpated  yellow  fever. 
The  credit  for  this  is  principally  due  to  Colonel  Goe- 
thals,  but  no  amount  of  sanitation  can  transform  a 
belt  of  swamps  with  an  annual  rainfall  of  150  inches 
into  a  health-resort.  The  yellow-lined  faces  of  the 
American  engineers  told  their  own  tale,  although  they 
had  no  longer  to  contend  with  the  fearful  mortality 
from  yellow  fever  which,  together  with  venality  and 
corruption,  effectually  wrecked  Ferdinand  de  Les- 
seps'  attempt  to  pierce  the  Isthmus  in  1889. 

The  railway  between  Colon  and  Panama  was 
opened  as  far  back  as  1855,  and  is  supposed  to  have 
<;ost  a  life  for  every  sleeper  laid.  Neglected  little 
cemeteries  stretch  beside  the  track  almost  from  ocean 
to  ocean.  Before  the  American  Government  took 
over  the  railway  there  was  one  class  and  one  fare  be- 
tween Colon  and  Panama,  for  which  the  modest  sum 
of  $25  gold  was  demanded,  or  £5  for  forty-seven 
miles,  which  makes  even  our  existing  railway  fares 
seem  moderate.  People  had  perforce  to  use  the  rail- 
way, for  there  were  no  other  means  of  communication. 

For  forty-seven  miles  the  track  runs  through  rank, 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  165 

steamy  swamps,  devoid  of  beauty,  the  monotony  only 
broken  by  the  endless  cemeteries  and  an  occasional 
alligator  dozing  on  a  bank  of  black  slime. 

Panama  is  the  oldest  city  on  the  American  Conti- 
nent, and  has  just  four  hundred  and  one  years  of  his- 
tory behind  it.  It  has  unquestionably  a  strong  ele- 
ment of  the  picturesque  about  it.  It  is  curious  to  see 
in  America  so  venerable  a  church  as  that  of  Santa 
Ana,  built  in  1560. 

From  the  immensely  solid  ramparts,  built  in  the 
actual  Pacific,  the  Pearl  Islands  are  dimly  visible. 
These  islands  had  a  personal  interest  for  me.  Balboa 
was  the  first  European  to  set  eyes  on  the  Pacific  on 
September  29,  1513.  He  had  with  him  one  hundred 
and  ninety  Spaniards,  amongst  whom  was  the  famous 
Pizarro.  A  few  days  after,  he  crossed  over  to  the 
Pearl  Islands,  which  he  found  in  a  state  of  great  com- 
motion, for  a  slave  had  just  found  the  largest  pear- 
shaped  pearl  ever  seen.  Balboa,  with  great  presence 
of  mind,  at  once  annexed  the  great  pearl,  and  gave 
the  slave  his  freedom. 

Having  fallen  out  of  favour  with  Ferdinand  V.  of 
Spain  (Isabella  had  died  in  1504),  Balboa  endeav- 
oured to  propitiate  the  king  by  sending  home  an  en- 
voy with  gifts  for  him,  and  amongst  these  presents 
was  the  great  pearl.  The  beauty  of  the  jewel  was  at 
once  recognised;  it  was  named  "La  Pelegrina,"  and 
took  its  place  amongst  the  treasures  of  the  Spanish 
Crown.  After  Ferdinand  V.'s  death,  the  great  pearl 
with  the  other  Crown  jewels  came  into  the  posses- 
sion of  his  grandson,  the  Hapsburg  Emperor  Charles 


166  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

V.,  and  from  Charles  "La  Pelegrina"  descended  to 
his  son,  Philip  II.  of  Spain.  When  Philip  married 
Queen  Mary  Tudor  of  England,  he  gave  her  "La 
Pelegrina"  as  a  wedding  present.  The  portrait  of 
Queen  Mary  in  the  Prado  at  Madrid,  shows  her 
wearing  this  pearl,  so  does  another  one  at  Hampton 
Court,  and  a  small  portrait  in  Winchester  Cathedral, 
where  her  marriage  with  Philip  took  place.  After 
Mary's  death  "La  Pelegrina"  returned  to  Spain,  and 
was  handed  down  from  sovereign  to  sovereign  until 
Napoleon  in  1808  placed  his  brother  Joseph  on  the 
throne  of  Spain.  It  was  a  somewhat  unsteady  throne, 
and  after  many  vicissitudes,  Joseph  fled  from  Spain 
in  the  Spring  of  1813.  Anticipating  some  such  en- 
forced retirement,  Joseph,  like  a  prudent  man,  had 
had  some  of  the  smaller  and  more  valuable  pictures 
from  the  Spanish  palaces  packed  in  wagons  and  des- 
patched towards  the  frontier.  These  pictures  fell  into 
the  hands  of  Wellington's  troops  at  the  Battle  of 
Vittoria,  and  are  hanging  at  this  moment  in  Apsley 
House,  Piccadilly,  for  Ferdinand  VII.,  on  his  restor- 
ation to  the  throne,  presented  them  to  the  Duke  of 
Wellington;  or  rather,  to  be  quite  accurate,  "lent" 
them  to  the  Duke  of  Wellington  and  to  his  succes- 
sors. Joseph  Bonaparte  also  thoughtfully  placed 
some  of  the  Spanish  Crown  jewels,  including  "La 
Pelegrina,"  in  his  pockets,  and  got  away  safely  with 
them.  Joseph  died,  and  left  the  great  pearl  to  his 
nephew,  Prince  Louis  Napoleon,  afterwards  Napo- 
leon III.  When  Prince  Louis  came  to  London  in 
exile,  he  brought  "La  Pelegrina"  with  him.  Prince 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  167 

Louis  Napoleon  was  a  close  friend  of  my  father's  and 
had  been  his  "Esquire"  at  the  famous  Eglinton  tour- 
nament. The  Prince  came  to  see  my  father  one  day 
and  confided  to  him  that  he  was  in  great  pecuniary 
difficulties.  He  asked  my  father  to  recommend  him 
an  honest  jeweller  who  would  pay  him  the  price  he 
wanted  for  "La  Pelegrina."  He  named  the  price, 
and  drew  the  great  pearl  out  of  his  pocket.  My 
father,  after  examining  the  jewel  and  noticing  its 
flawless  shape  and  lustre,  silently  opened  a  drawer, 
drew  a  cheque,  and  handed  it  to  Prince  Louis  with- 
out a  word.  That  afternoon  my  father  presented  my 
mother  with  "La  Pelegrina."  To  my  mother  it  was 
an  unceasing  source  of  anxiety.  The  pearl  had  never 
been  bored,  and  was  so  heavy  that  it  was  constantly 
falling  from  its  setting.  Three  times  she  lost  it;  three 
times  she  found  it  again.  Once  at  a  ball  at  Bucking- 
ham Palace,  on  putting  her  hand  to  her  neck,  she 
found  that  the  great  pearl  had  gone.  She  was  much 
distressed,  knowing  how  upset  my  father  would  be. 
On  going  in  to  supper,  she  saw  "La  Pelegrina"  gleam- 
ing at  her  from  the  folds  of  the  velvet  train  of  the 
lady  immediately  in  front  of  her.  Again  she  lost  it 
at  Windsor  Castle,  and  it  was  found  in  the  uphol- 
stery of  a  sofa.  As  a  child,  on  the  rare  occasions  when 
"La  Pelegrina"  came  out  of  its  safe,  I  loved  to  stroke 
and  smooth  its  sleek,  satin-like  sheen.  The  great  pearl 
somehow  fascinated  me.  When  it  came  into  my 
brother's  possession  after  my  father's  death,  he  had 
"La  Pelegrina"  bored,  though  it  impaired  its  value, 
so  my  sister-in-law  was  able  to  wear  the  great  jewel 


168  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

as  often  as  she  wished  without  running  the  constant 
danger  of  losing  it.  I  liked  that  distant  glimpse  of 
the  Pearl  Islands,  for  they  were  the  birthplace  of  the 
jewel  which  had  attracted  me  so  curiously  as  a  child. 
We  returned  from  Panama  by  a  train  after  dark. 
As  the  night-air  from  the  swamps  has  the  reputation 
of  being  deadly,  every  window  in  the  car  was  shut. 
I  noticed  a  dark-skinned  citizen  of  either  Peru  or 
Ecuador  in  some  difficulties  with  the  conductor,  ow- 
ing to  his  lack  of  knowledge  of  English.  The  Peru- 
vian pulled  up  a  window  (up  on  the  American  Con- 
tinent, not  down  as  with  us)  and  sat  in  the  full  draught 
of  the  night-air.  A  pleasant  young  Irishman  named 
Martin,  a  near  relative  of  the  Miss  Martin  who  col- 
laborated with  Miss  Somerville  in  the  inimitable  Ex- 
periences of  an  Irish  R.M.  noticed  this.  "By  Gad! 
that  fellow  will  ge^  fever  if  he  sits  in  the  draught 
from  the  swamps.  I'll  go  and  warn  him."  I  told 
Martin  that  the  South  American  spoke  no  English. 
"That's  all  right,"  cried  Martin.  "I  speak  a  little 
Spanish  myself."  Taking  a  seat  by  the  Peruvian, 
Martin  tapped  him  on  the  shoulder  to  secure  his  at- 
tention, pointed  a  warning  finger  at  the  open  win- 
dow, and  said  slowly  but  impressively,  in  a  strong 
Co.  Galway  accent,  "Swamp — o,  mustn't-sit-in- 
draught — o;  sit-in-draught — o,  get-chill — o;  get-chill 
— o,  catch-fever — o;  catch-fever — o,  damned-ill — o; 
damned-ill — o,  die — o."  He  repeated  this  twice,  and 
upon  the  Peruvian  turning  a  blank  look  of  incompre- 
hension at  him,  returned  to  his  place  saying,  "I  don't 
believe  that  fellow  understands  one  single  word  of 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  169 

Spanish,"  so  I  went  myself  and  warned  the  Peruvian 
in  Spanish  of  the  risk  he  was  running,  and  he  closed 
the  window.  I  do  not  know  whether  he  suffered  for 
his  imprudence,  but  Martin  was  down  next  day  with 
a  sharp  bout  of  fever. 

Martin  next  announced  that  the  Southern  Cross 
had  gone  stark,  staring  mad,  and  had  moved  round  by 
mistake  to  the  North.  We  were  travelling  from  the 
Pacific  to  the  Atlantic,  therefore  presumably  going 
from  West  to  East,  and  there,  through  the  window, 
sure  enough  was  that  much-overrated  constellation, 
the  Southern  Cross,  shining  away  gaily  in  the  North. 
Upon  reflexion,  it  seemed  unreasonable  to  suppose 
that  the  Southern  Cross  could  have  so  far  forgotten 
its  appointed  place  in  the  heavens,  the  points  of  the 
compass,  and  the  very  obligations  its  name  imposed 
upon  it,  as  to  establish  itself  deliberately  in  the  North : 
there  must  be  some  mistake  somewhere.  So  we  got 
a  map,  and  discovered,  to  our  amazement,  that, 
though  Colon  is  on  the  Atlantic  and  Panama  on  the 
Pacific,  yet  Colon  is  West  of  Panama,  owing  to  the 
kink  in  the  Isthmus  at  this  point.  The  railway  from 
the  Pacific  runs  North-west  to  the  Atlantic,  though 
at  this  particular  part  of  the  line  we  were  travelling 
due  West,  so  the  Southern  Cross  was  right  after  all, 
and  we  were  wrong. 

The  track  from  ocean  to  ocean  seemed  to  be  lined 
with  one  continuous  street  of  wooden  stores,  eating- 
houses,  and  dance-halls,  all  erected  for  the  benefit  of 
the  workers  on  the  canal,  and  all  alike  blazing  with 


170  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

paraffin  lamps.  It  was  like  one  continuous  fair,  but 
the  kindly  night  masked  the  endless  cemeteries. 

We  bought  in  Colon  a  little  book  of  verse  entitled 
Panama  Patchwork.  It  was  the  work  of  an  Ameri- 
can, James  Stanley  Gilbert,  who  had  lived  for  six 
years  on  the  Isthmus,  and  had  seen  most  of  his  friends 
die  there.  Gilbert's  lines  have,  therefore,  a  certain 
excusable  tinge  of  morbidity,  as,  for  example : 

"Beyond  the  Chagres  River 
Are  paths  that  lead  to  death: 
To  fever's  deadly  breezes, 
To  malaria's  poisonous  breath." 

I  refrain  from  quoting  others  which  are  really  too 
gruesome  to  reproduce,  but  I  like  his  welcome  to  the 
Trade  wind,  the  boisterous  advent  of  which  announces 
the  end  of  the  very  unhealthy  wet  season,  and  a  brief 
spell  of  dry  weather.  It  must  be  remembered  that 
the  author  was  unused  to  the  pen: 

"Blow  thou  brave  old  Trade  wind,  blow ! 
Send  the  mighty  billows  flashing 
In  the  radiant  sunlight,  dashing 
O'er  the  reef,  like  thunder  crashing, 
Blow  thou  brave  old  Trade  wind,  blow !" 

One  can  almost  hear  the  great  seas  thundering  on  the 
coral  reefs  in  reading  these  lines,  and  can  see  in  imag- 
ination the  nodding  cocoanut  palms  bending  their 
pliant  green  heads  to  the  life-giving  Trades. 

It  is  curious  the  different  terms  used  for  these 
continuous  winds:  we  call  them  "Trade  winds";  the 
French,  "Vents  alizes";  the  Germans,  "Passatwinde" ; 
the  Spanish  "Vientos  generales."  All  quite  different. 

As  my  nephew  and  I  drove  out  of  the  dock  en- 
closure at  Kingston,  we  were  appalled  at  the  scene 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  171 

of  desolation  that  met  our  eyes.    Kingston  was  one 
heap  of  ruins ;  there  was  not  a  house  intact.    Neither 
of  us  had  imagined  the  possibility  of  a  town  being  so 
completely  destroyed,  for  this  was  in  1907,  not  1915, 
and  twenty  brief  seconds  had  sufficed  to  wreck  a  pros- 
perous city  of  40,000  inhabitants.     The  streets  had 
been  partially  cleared,  but  the  telephone  and  the 
electric-light  wires  were  all  down,  as  were  the  over- 
head wires  for  the  trolly-cars.    We  traversed  three 
miles  of  shapeless  heaps  of  bricks  and  stones.    Some 
trim  well-kept  villas  in  the  suburbs  which  I  remem- 
bered well,  were  either  shaken  down,  or  gaped  on  the 
road  through  broad  fissures  in  their  frontages,  great 
piles  of  debris  announcing  that  the  building  was  only, 
so  to  speak,  standing  on  sufferance,  and  would  have 
to  be  entirely  reconstructed.    On  arriving  at  King's 
House,  we  found  the  main  building  still  standing, 
but  so  damaged  that  it  might  collapse  at  any  moment, 
and  therefore  uninhabitable.  The  handsome  ballroom, 
which  formed  a  separate  wing,  was  nothing  but  a  pile 
of  rubbish,  a  formless  mass  of  bricks  and  plaster.  The 
dining-room,  making  the  corresponding  wing,  was 
built  entirely  of  wood,  and  had  consequently  escaped 
injury.    This  dining-room  was  a  very  lofty  hall,  paved 
with  marble  and  entirely  surrounded  by  arches  open 
to  the  air.    It  had  previously  reminded  me  of  the  in- 
teriors seen  in  Italian  pictures  of  sacred  subjects, 
with  its  bareness,  spacious  whiteness,  its  columns  and 
arches.    Here  the  Governor,  Lady  Swettenham  and 
her  sister  were  living,  in  little  encampments  formed 
by  screens.     Two  splendid  chandeliers  of  Spanish 


172  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

bronze,  originally  looted  from  Havannah  in  the  eigh- 
teenth century,  had  been  dismantled  by  the  Gover- 
nor's orders,  in  view  of  the  possibility  of  further 
shocks.  The  verandah  outside  formed  the  living-room 
for  every  one.  My  nephew  and  I  were  very  comfort- 
ably lodged  in  a  little  wooden  shed,  formerly  the  laun- 
dry. I  had  noticed  as  we  drove  through  the  town  that 
the  great  Edinburgh  reservoirs  were  apparently  quite 
uninjured,  and  here  at  King's  House  the  fountain  was 
splashing  in  its  basin  as  gaily  as  ever,  the  building 
containing  the  big  swimming-bath  was  undamaged, 
and  the  spring  which  fed  the  bath  still  gurgled  cheer- 
fully into  it.  Wherever  there  was  water,  the  shock 
seemed  to  have  been  neutralised,  for  I  imagine  that 
the  water  acted  as  a  cushion  to  deaden  the  earth-wave. 
Neither  the  electric  lighting  nor  the  telephones  were 
working. 

A  tropical  night  is  seldom  quiet,  what  with  the 
croaking  of  frogs,  the  chirping  of  the  cicadas,  and 
some  bird,  insect,  or  reptile  that  imitates  the  winding 
in  of  a  fishing-reel  for  hours  together,  but  really  the 
noise  of  the  Jamaican  nights  after  the  earthquake  was 
quite  unbearable.  Negroes  are  very  hysterical,  and 
some  black  preachers  had  utilised  the  earthquake  to 
start  a  series  of  revival  meetings,  and  these  were  held 
just  outside  the  grounds  of  King's  House.  Right 
through  the  night  .they  lasted,  with  continual  hymn- 
singing,  varied  with  loud  cries  and  groans.  "Abide 
with  me"  is  a  beautiful  hymn,  but  really  its  beauties 
began  to  pall  when  it  had  been  sung  through  from 
beginning  to  end  nine  times  running.  Neither  my 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  173 

nephew  nor  I  could  get  any  sleep  that  first  night  ow- 
ing to  the  blatant  devotional  exercises  of  the  over- 
wrought negroes. 

Both  Sir  Alexander  and  Lady  Swettenham  were 
really  wonderful.  He,  though  an  old  man,  only  al- 
lowed himself  five  hours'  sleep,  and  spent  his  days 
at  Headquarters  House  trying  to  bring  the  aifairs  of 
the  ruined  city  into  some  kind  of  order,  and  to  start 
the  every-day  machinery  of  ordinary  civilised  life 
again,  for  there  were  no  shops,  no  butchers  or  bakers, 
no  clothing,  no  groceries — everything  had  been  de- 
stroyed, and  had  to  be  reconstructed.  We  had  noticed 
the  previous  afternoon  a  very  rough  newly  erected 
shanty.  It  was  barely  finished,  but  already  jets  of 
steam  were  puffing  from  its  roof,  and  a  large  sign 
proclaimed  it  a  steam-bakery.  That  was  the  only 
source  of  bread-supply  in  Kingston.  Is  it  necessary 
to  specify  the  nationality  of  a  firm  so  prompt  to  rise 
to  an  emergency,  or  to  add  that  the  names  over  the 
door  were  two  Scottish  ones?  Lady  Swettenham  was 
equally  indefatigable,  and  sat  on  endless  committees: 
for  sheltering  the  destitute,  for  helping  the  homeless 
with  food,  money  and  clothing,  for  providing  for  the 
widows  and  orphans. 

It  was  estimated  that  twelve  hundred  people  lost 
their  lives  on  that  fatal  afternoon  of  January  14, 1907, 
though  even  this  pales  before  the  terrific  catastrophe 
of  St.  Pierre  in  Martinique,  on  May  8,  1902,  when 
forty  thousand  people  and  one  of  the  finest  towns  in 
the  West  Indies  were  blotted  out  of  existence  in  one 
minute  by  a  fiery  blast  from  the  volcano  Mont  Pele. 


174.  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

Lady  Swettenham  was  driving  into  Kingston  with 
Lady  Dudley  at  2.30  p.m.  on  the  day  of  the  earth- 
quake. Some  ten  minutes  later  they  felt  the  carriage 
suddenly  rise,  and  then  fall  again.  The  horses  stopped, 
and  the  coachman  looked  back  in  vain  for  the  tree 
he  thought  he  must  have  run  over,  until,  on  turning 
the  next  corner,  they  came  upon  a  house  in  ruins. 
Then  Lady  Swettenham  knew.  Both  ladies  worked 
all  night  in  the  hospital,  attending  to  the  hundreds 
of  injured.  The  hospital  dispensary  had  been 
wrecked,  and,  sad  to  say,  the  supply  of  chloroform 
became  exhausted,  so  amputations  had  to  be  per- 
formed without  anaesthetics.  Most  fortunately  there 
was  to  have  been  a  great  ball  at  King's  House  that 
very  evening,  so  Lady  Swettenham  was  able  to  pro- 
vide the  hospital  with  unlimited  soup,  jellies,  and  cold 
chickens;  otherwise  it  would  have  been  impossible  to 
provide  the  sufferers  with  any  food  at  all. 

As  we  all  know,  points  of  view  differ.  After  the 
trolley-car  service  had  been  re-established,  my  nephew 
and  I  had  occasion  to  go  into  Kingston  daily  towards 
noon.  On  the  front  bench  of  the  car  there  was  always 
seated  a  little  white  boy,  about  nine  years  old,  with  a 
pile  of  school-books.  He  was  a  well-mannered, 
friendly  little  fellow  and  soon  entered  into  conversa- 
tion. Waxing  confidential,  he  observed  to  us,  "Isn't 
this  earthquake  awfully  jolly?  Our  school  is  all 
'mashed  up,'  so  we  get  out  at  half-past  eleven  instead 
of  at  one." 

"And  how  about  your  own  house,  Charlie?  Is  that 
all  right?" 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  175 

"Oh  no,  it's  all  'mashed  up'  too,  so  is  Daddy's  store. 
We're  living  on  the  lawn  in  tents,  like  Robinson  Cru- 
soe. It's  most  awfully  jolly!" 

Incidentally  I  may  remark  that  Charlie's  father  had 
been  completely  ruined  by  the  earthquake,  his  store 
not  being  insured,  but  the  small  boy  only  saw  things 
from  his  own  point  of  view. 

A  certain  London  West-End  church,  with  which  I 
am  connected,  has  a  Resident  Choir  School  attached 
to  it.  As  the  choir-boys'  dormitory  is  at  the  top  of 
the  building,  every  time  that  there  was  an  air-raid 
during  the  war,  they  were  routed  out  of  bed  and  sent 
down  to  the  coal-cellar.  The  boys  were  told  to  write 
an  account  of  one  peculiarly  severe  raid  as  part  of  their 
school-work.  One  small  urchin  described  it  as  fol- 
lows: "The  Vicar  woke  us  up  and  told  us  there  was 
an  air-raid,  and  that  we  were  to  go  down  into  the  coal- 
cellar  in  our  pyjamas  with  our  blankets.  It  was  aw- 
fully jolly  down  in  the  cellar.  In  our  blankets  we 
looked  like  robbers  in  a  cave,  or  like  a  lot  of  Red  In- 
dians. The  Vicar  told  us  stories,  and  we  had  buns  and 
cocoa  and  sang  songs.  It  was  all  so  awfully  jolly 
that  all  the  chaps  hope  that  there  will  be  plenty  more 
air-raids." 

Here  again  the  small  boy's  point  of  view  differs 
materially  from  that  of  the  adult. 

To  go  back  to  Jamaica,  an  acquaintance  had  re- 
turned early  from  his  office,  and  was  having  a  cup  of 
coffee  on  his  verandah  at  2.30.  Suddenly  he  saw  the 
trees  at  the  end  of  his  garden  rise  up  some  eight  feet. 
A  quick  brain-wave  suggested  an  earthquake  to  him 


176  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

at  once,  and  half -unconsciously  he  jumped  from  the 
verandah  for  all  he  was  worth.  As  he  alighted  on 
the  lawn,  his  house  crashed  down  behind  him. 

There  were  some  further  milder  shocks.  I  was  en- 
gaged in  shaving  early  one  morning  in  our  little 
wooden  house,  when  I  felt  myself  pushed  violently 
against  the  dressing-table,  almost  removing  my  chin 
with  the  razor  at  the  same  time.  I  suspected  my  neph- 
ew of  a  practical  joke,  and  called  out  angrily  to 
him.  In  an  aggrieved  voice  he  protested  that  he 
had  not  touched  me,  but  had  himself  been  hurled  by 
an  unseen  agency  against  the  wardrobe.  Then  came 
a  perfect  cannonade  of  nuts  from  an  overhanging  tree 
on  to  the  wooden  roof  of  our  modest  temporary  abode, 
and  still  we  did  not  understand.  I  had  at  that  time 
an  English  valet,  the  most  stolid  man  I  have  ever 
come  across.  He  entered  the  hut  with  a  pair  of  brown 
shoes  in  one  hand,  a  pair  of  white  ones  in  the  other. 
In  the  most  matter-of-fact  way  he  observed,  "There's 
been  an  earthquake,  so  perhaps  you  would  like  to  wear 
your  brown  shoes  to-day,  instead  of  the  white  ones." 
By  what  process  of  reasoning  he  judged  brown  shoes 
more  fitted  to  earthquake  conditions  than  white  ones, 
rather  escaped  me. 

Appalling  tragedy  though  the  earthquake  was,  like 
most  tragedies  it  had  its  occasional  lighter  side.  A 
certain  leading  lady  of  the  island  had  been  in  the  habit 
of  wearing  short  skirts,  long  before  the  dictates  of 
fashion  imposed  the  present  unbecoming  skimpy  gar- 
ments. She  did  this  on  account  of  the  numerous  in- 
sect pests  with  which  Jamaica  unfortunately  abounds. 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  177 

For  the  same  reason  she  adopted  light-coloured  stock- 
ings, so  that  any  creeping  intruder  could  be  easily 
seen  and  brushed  off.  Her  wardrobe  being  destroyed 
in  the  earthquake,  she  took  the  train  into  Spanish 
Town  in  an  endeavour  to  replenish  it.  In  a  large 
drapery  store  the  black  forewoman  at  once  recognised 
the  lady,  and  came  forward,  all  bows  and  smiles,  to 
greet  so  important  a  customer. 

"Please,  what  can  I  hab  de  pleasure  of  showing 
Madam?" 

"I  want  some  silk  stockings,  either  pink  or  flesh- 
colour,  if  you  have  any!" 

"Very  sorry,  Madam,  we  hab  no  pink  silk  stock- 
ings, but  we  hab  plenty  of  flesh-coloured  ones,"  tak- 
ing down  as  she  spoke  a  great  bundle  of  black  silk 
stockings.  Of  course,  if  one  thinks  over  it  for  a  mo- 
ment, it  would  be  so. 

The  religious  hysteria  amongst  the  negroes  showed 
no  signs  of  abating.  A  black  "prophet,"  a  full-blooded 
negro  named  Bedward,  made  his  appearance,  and 
gained  a  great  following.  Bedward,  dressed  in  a  dis- 
carded British  naval  uniform,  and  attended  by  a  neu- 
rotic bodyguard  of  screaming,  hysterical  negresses, 
made  continual  triumphal  parades  through  the  streets 
of  Kingston.  As  far  as  I  could  ascertain  the  most  im- 
portant item  in  his  religious  crusade  was  the  baptism 
of  his  converts  in  the  Hope  River,  at  a  uniform  charge 
of  half-a-crown  per  head. 

With  regard  to  baptism,  a  curious  incident  occurred 
long  before  I  was  born.  A  sister  of  mine,  the  late 
Duchess  of  Buccleuch,  was  so  frail  and  delicate  at  her 


178  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

birth  that  it  was  thought  that  she  could  not  possibly 
survive.  She  was  accordingly  baptised  privately  two 
days  after  her  birth.  She  rallied,  and  grew  into  a  big 
sturdy  girl.  When  she  was  four  years  old,  my  father 
had  her  received  into  the  Church  by  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  at  the  Chapel  Royal,  St.  James's  Palace. 
During  the  service  the  Archbishop  became  inarticu- 
late, and  many  of  those  present  feared  that  he  had  sus- 
tained a  stroke,  or  had  been  suddenly  afflicted  with 
aphasia.  What  had  happened  was  this :  As  my  sis- 
ter was  inclined  to  be  fidgety  and  troublesome,  my 
mother  had,  perhaps  unwisely,  given  her  a  packet  of 
sugar-almonds  to  keep  her  quiet.  The  child  was 
actually  sucking  one  of  these  when  she  arrived  at  the 
Chapel  Royal,  but  was,  of  course,  made  to  remove  it. 
Unseen  by  any  one,  she  managed  to  place  another  in 
her  mouth.  When  the  Archbishop  took  her  in  his 
arms,  the  child,  seeing  his  mouth  so  close  to  hers,  with 
the  kindest  intentions  in  the  world,  took  the  sugar- 
almond  from  her  own  mouth  and  popped  it  into  the 
Archbishop's.  Never  had  a  Primate  been  in  a  more 
embarrassing  situation!  Having  both  his  arms  occu- 
pied in  holding  the  child,  he  could  not  remove  the  of- 
fending almond  with  his  fingers.  It  would  be  quite 
superfluous  on  my  part  to  point  out  how  highly  in- 
decorous it  would  be  for  an  Archbishop  to — shall  we 
say  to  expel  anything  from  his  mouth — in  church ;  and 
even  after  the  sugar  had  been  dissolved,  an  almond 
must  be  crunched  before  it  can  be  disposed  of,  another 
wholly  inadmissible  contingency.  So  the  poor  Arch- 
bishop had  perforce  to  remain  inarticulate ;  let  us  only 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  179 

hope  that  you  and  I  may  never  find  ourselves  in  so 
difficult  a  situation. 

Many  people  in  Jamaica  were  in  1907  in  quite  as 
difficult  a  situation.  I  found  the  wife  of  the  Chief 
Justice,  an  old  acquaintance  of  mine  in  the  Far  East, 
living  in  the  emptied  swimming-bath  of  what  had  been 
her  home.  The  officers  of  the  West  India  Regiment 
at  Up  Park  Camp  were  all  under  canvas  on  the  crick- 
et-ground. The  officers'  quarters  at  Up  Park  Bar- 
racks were  exceedingly  well  designed  for  the  climate, 
being  raised  on  arcades.  They  were  shattered,  but 
the  wooden  shingle  roofs  had  fallen  intact  and  un- 
broken, and  lay  on  the  ground  in  pieces  about  100  feet 
long,  a  most  curious  spectacle.  Students  of  Tom 
Cringle  will  remember  the  gruesome  description  of 
his  dinner  at  the  Mess  at  Up  Park  Camp,  during  an 
epidemic  of  yellow  fever,  when  one  officer  after  an- 
other got  up  and  left  the  room,  pinching  the  regi- 
mental doctor  on  the  shoulder  as  he  did  so,  as  an  in- 
timation that  he,  too,  had  been  claimed  by  the  yellow 
death.  The  military  authorities  acted  unwisely  in  se- 
lecting Up  Park  as  a  site  for  barracks.  It  certainly 
stands  high,  but  is  shut  off  from  the  sea  breeze  by  the 
hill  known  as  Long  Mountain,  and  has,  in  addition,  a 
dangerous  swamp  to  windward  of  it,  two  drawbacks 
which  might  have  been  foreseen. 

I  noticed  that  brick  houses  suffered  more  than  stone 
ones.  This  was  attributed  to  the  inferior  mortar  used 
by  Jamaican  masons,  for  which  there  can  be  no  excuse, 
for  the  island  abounds  in  lime.  Wooden  houses  es- 
caped scatheless.  Every  statue  in  the  Public  Gardens 


180  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

was  thrown  down,  except  that  of  Queen  Victoria.  The 
superstitious  negroes  were  much  impressed  by  this 
fact,  though  the  earthquake  had,  curiously  enough, 
twisted  the  statue  entirely  round.  Instead  of  facing 
the  sea,  as  she  formerly  did,  the  Queen  now  turned 
her  back  on  it,  otherwise  the  statue  was  uninjured. 
The  clock  on  the  shattered  Parish  Church  recorded 
the  fatal  hour  when  it  had  stopped  in  the  general 
ruin:  2A2  p.m.  As  far  as  I  could  learn,  the  earth- 
quake had  not  taken  the  form  of  a  trembling  motion, 
but  the  solid  ground  had  twice  risen  and  fallen  eight 
feet,  a  sort  of  land-wave,  which  apparently  was  con- 
fined to  the  light  sandy  Liguanea  plain,  for  where 
the  mountains  began  no  shock  had  been  felt.  The 
fine  old  church  of  St.  Andrew  had  been  originally 
built  in  1635,  but  had  been  demolished  by  the  earth- 
quake of  1692  and  rebuilt  in  1700,  as  the  inscription 
at  the  west  end  testified.  Here  the  words  "Anna  Re- 
gina,"  surrounded  by  a  mass  of  florid  carving,  showed 
that  Jamaica  is  no  land  of  yesterday.  The  earthquake 
of  1907  shook  down  the  tower,  but  did  not  injure  the 
collection  of  very  fine  seventeenth-  and  eighteenth-cen- 
tury monuments  the  church  contains.  The  inscrip- 
tion on  one  of  these,  opposite  the  Governor's  pew, 
pleased  me  by  its  originality.  After  a  detailed  list 
of  the  many  admirable  qualities  of  the  lady  it  com- 
memorates, it  goes  on  to  say  that  "in  the  yeare  1685 
she  passed  through  the  spotted  veil  of  the  smallpox 
to  her  God." 

We  accompanied  the  Governor  to  Port  Royal  to 
take  stock  of  the  damage  there.     Previous  to  1692, 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  181 

Port  Royal  was  reputed  the  richest  and  the  wickedest 
spot  on  earth,  for  it  was  the  headquarters  of  the  Buc- 
taneers;  here  they  divided  their  ill-gotten  gains,  and 
here  they  strutted  about  bedizened  in  their  tawdry 
finery,  drinking  and  gambling.  I  should  be  inclined 
to  distrust  the  local  legend  that  in  the  many  taverns 
the  wine  was  all  served  in  jewelled  golden  cups,  for, 
given  the  character  of  the  customers,  one  would  imag- 
ine that  the  gold  cups  would  be  apt  to  leave  the  tav- 
erns with  the  customers.  Then  came  the  earthquake 
of  1692,  and  half  of  Port  Royal  was  swallowed  by 
the  sea.  A  pillar  has  been  erected  at  Green  Bay,  op- 
posite to  a  Huguenot  refugee,  one  Lewis  Galdy,  who 
had  a  wonderful  escape.  According  to  the  inscription 
on  it,  "Mr.  Lewis  Galdy  was  swallowed  by  the  earth- 
quake, and,  by  the  providence  of  God,  thrown  by  an- 
other shock  into  the  sea,  and  lived  many  years  after- 
wards in  great  reputation." 

Port  Royal  cannot  be  called  a  fortunate  spot,  for 
in  1703  it  was  again  entirely  destroyed  by  fire,  and  in 
1722  it  was  swept  away  by  a  hurricane. 

It  is,  in  spite  of  its  historic  past,  a  mean,  squalid, 
decaying  little  place.  Being  built  almost  entirely  of 
wood,  the  town  had  sustained  but  little  injury,  but 
the  massive  concrete  fort  at  the  end  of  the  peninsula 
had  slid  bodily  into  the  sea,  six-inch  guns  and  all. 
Some  twenty  cocoa-nut  palms  it  had  taken  with  it 
were  standing  in  the  water,  their  brown  withered  tops 
just  peering  above  the  surface,  giving  a  curious  effect 
of  desolation.  A  tramway  used  for  conveying  ammu- 
nition bore  witness  to  the  violence  of  the  earth-waves, 


182  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

for  it  stood  in  places  some  ten  feet  up  in  the  air,  rest- 
ing on  nothing  at  all ;  looking  for  all  the  world  like  a 
switchback  railway  at  Earl's  Court.  So  many  charges 
are  levelled  at  the  Royal  Engineers  that  it  is  pleasant 
to  be  able  to  testify  that  every  building  erected  by 
this  much-abused  corps  at  Port  Royal  had  resisted 
the  earthquake  and  was  standing  intact.  Port  Royal, 
notwithstanding  its  situation  at  the  end  of  a  penin- 
sula, had  in  old  days  a  terrible  reputation  for  un- 
healthiness,  only  surpassed  by  that  of  Fort  Augusta 
across  the  bay,  the  latter  a  veritable  charnel-house. 
The  neighbourhood  of  the  poisonous  swamps  of  the 
Rio  Cobre  was  in  both  cases  responsible  for  the  loss  of 
tens  of  thousands  of  British  soldiers'  lives  in  these 
two  ill-fated  spots.  They  were  both  hot-beds  of  yel- 
low fever. 

My  nephew  and  I,  being  able  to  do  no  good  there, 
were  anxious  to  escape  from  ruined  Kingston,  and 
made  arrangements  to  stay  as  paying  guests  with  one 
or  two  planters,  in  order  to  see  something  of  their 
daily  life.  After  a  second  drive  through  the  exqui- 
sitely beautiful  Bog  Walk  and  over  Monte  Diavolo, 
we  found  ourselves  on  the  sugar  estate  of  a  widow,  a 
lady  of  pure  white  blood.  There  were  abundant  indi- 
cations of  the  former  prosperity  of  the  place,  and  even 
more  apparent  signs  that  at  present  the  wolf  was 
very  close  to  the  door.  The  verandah  was  paved  with 
marble,  there  was  some  fine  mahogany  carving  in  the 
central  hall,  the  dessert-service  was  of  George  II. 
silver-gilt,  and  the  china  beautiful  old  Spode.  Every- 
thing else  about  the  place  told  its  own  story  of  des- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  183 

perate  financial  conditions.  Our  hostess  declared  that 
it  was  impossible  for  a  woman  to  manage  a  sugar  es- 
tate, as  she  could  not  always  be  about  amongst  the 
canes  and  in  the  boiler-house,  and  her  sons  were  not 
yet  old  enough  to  help  her.  No  one  who  has  not  ex- 
perienced it  can  picture  the  heat  of  a  Jamaican  sugar- 
factory;  I  should  imagine  the  temperature  to  be  about 
120°.  Most  people,  I  think,  take  a  rather  childish 
pleasure  in  watching  the  first  stages  of  the  manufac- 
ture of  familiar  products.  I  confess  to  feeling  inter- 
ested on  being  told  that  the  stream  of  muddy  liquid 
issuing  from  the  crushed  canes  and  trickling  gaily 
down  its  wooden  gutters,  would  ultimately  figure  as 
the  lump-sugar  of  our  breakfast-tables.  There  is  also 
a  peculiarly  fascinating  apparatus  known  as  a 
vacuum-pan,  peeping  into  which,  through  a  little  talc 
window,  a  species  of  brown  porridge  transforms  itself 
into  crystallised  sugar  of  the  sort  known  to  house- 
keepers as  "Demerara"  under  your  very  eyes;  and 
another  equally  attractive,  rapidly  revolving  machine 
in  which  the  molasses,  by  centrifugal  force,  detaches 
itself  from  the  sugar,  and  runs  of  its  own  accord  down 
its  appointed  channels  to  the  rum  distillery,  where 
Alice's  Dormouse  would  have  had  the  gratification 
of  seeing  a  real  treacle-well.  In  this  latter  place, 
where  the  smell  of  the  fermenting  molasses  is  awful, 
only  East  Indian  coolies  can  be  employed,  a  West 
Indian  negro  being  unable  to  withstand  its  alcoholic 
temptations. 

After  seeing  all  the  lions  of  the  island,  we  drifted 


184  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

as  paying  guests  to  a  school  for  little  white  boys  on 
the  north  coast. 

The  surroundings  of  this  school  were  ideally  beau- 
tiful. It  stood  on  a  promontory  jutting  into  the  sea, 
with  a  coral  reef  in  front  of  it,  but  shut  in  as  it  was 
by  the  hills,  the  heat  of  the  place  was  unbearable,  and 
the  little  white  boys  all  looked  pathetically  pale  and 
"peaky." 

My  nephew  pointed  out  to  me  that  a  little  cove 
near  the  school  must  be  the  identical  place  we  had 
both  read  of  hundreds  of  times,  and  he  justly  re- 
marked what  an  ideal  spot  it  would  be  in  which  to 
be  shipwrecked.  All  the  traditional  accessories  were 
there.  The  coral  reef  with  the  breakers  thundering 
on  it;  the  placid  lagoon  inshore;  a  little  cove  whose 
dazzling  white  coral  beach  was  fringed  with  cocoa- 
nut  palms  down  to  the  very  water's  edge;  a  crystal- 
clear  spring  trickling  down  the  cliff  and  tumbling  into 
a  rocky  basin;  the  hill  behind  clothed  with  a  dense 
jungle  of  bread-fruit  trees  and  wild  plantains,  whose 
sea  of  greenery  was  starred  with  the  golden  balls  of 
innumerable  orange  trees ;  the  whole  place  must  really 
have  been  lifted  bodily  out  of  some  boy's  book,  and 
put  here  to  prove  that  writers  of  fiction  occasionally 
tell  the  truth,  for  it  seemed  perfectly  familiar  to  both 
of  us.  Certainly,  the  oranges  were  of  the  bitter  Se- 
ville variety  and  were  uneatable,  and  wild  plantains 
are  but  an  indifferent  article  of  diet;  still,  they  satis- 
fied the  eye,  and  fulfilled  their  purpose  as  indispen- 
sable accessories  to  the  castaway's  new  home.  It 
would  be  impossible  to  conceive  of  more  orthodox  sur- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  185 

roundings  in  which  to  be  shipwrecked,  for  our  vessel 
would  be,  of  course,  piled  up  on  the  reef  within  con- 
venient distance,  and  we  would  presuppose  a  current 
setting  into  the  cove.  We  should  also  have  to  assume 
that  the  ship  was  loaded  with  a  general  cargo,  includ- 
ing such  unlikely  items  as  tool-chests  and  cases  of 
vegetable  seeds,  all  of  which  would  be  washed  ashore 
undamaged  precisely  when  wanted.  It  is  quite  obvious 
that  a  cargo  of,  say,  type-writers,  or  railway  metals, 
would  prove  of  doubtful  utility  to  any  castaways,  nor 
would  there  be  much  probability  of  either  of  these  ar- 
ticles floating  ashore.  My  nephew,  a  slave  to  tradi- 
tion, wished  at  once  to  construct  a  hut  of  palm 
branches  close  to  the  clear  spring,  as  is  always  done 
in  the  books ;  he  was  also  positively  yearning  to  light 
a  fire  in  the  manner  customary  amongst  orthodox 
castaways,  by  using  my  spectacles  as  a  burning-glass. 
With  regard  to  the  necessary  commissariat  arrange- 
ments, he  pointed  out  that  there  were  abundant  Avo- 
cado pear  trees  in  the  vicinity,  which  would  furnish 
"Midshipman's  butter,"  whilst  the  bread-fruit  tree 
would  satisfactorily  replace  the  baker,  and  the  Aki 
fruit  form  an  excellent  substitute  for  eggs.  He  en- 
larged on  the  innumerable  other  vegetable  conveni- 
ences of  the  island,  and  declared  that  it  was  almost 
flying  in  the  face  of  Providence  for  a  sea-captain  to 
neglect  to  lose  his  ship  in  so  ideal  a  spot. 

Whilst  watching  the  little  boys  playing  football  in 
a  temperature  of  90°,  we  noticed  an  unusual  adjunct 
to  a  football  field.  A  great  pile  of  unripe,  green  co- 
coa-nuts (called  "water-cocoa-nuts"  in  Jamaica)  lay 


186  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

in  one  corner,  with  a  negro  boy  standing  guard  over 
them.  Up  would  trot  a  dripping  little  white  urchin, 
and  pant  out,  "Please  open  me  a  nut,  Arthur,"  and 
with  one  stroke  of  his  machete  the  young  negro  would 
decapitate  a  nut,  which  the  little  fellow  would  drain 
thirstily  and  then  rush  back  to  his  game.  The  school- 
master told  me  that  he  always  gave  his  boys  cocoa-nut 
water  at  their  dinner,  as  it  never  causes  a  chill,  and 
as  there  were  thousands  of  trees  growing  round  the 
school,  it  was  an  inexpensive  luxury.  One  of  the  duties 
of  Arthur,  the  negro  boy,  was  to  supply  the  school 
with  nuts,  and  I  saw  him  going  up  the  trees  like  a 
monkey,  with  the  aid  of  a  sling  of  rope  round  his  leg. 
I  and  my  nephew  went  out  fishing  on  the  reef  at 
dawn,  before  the  breeze  sprang  up.  The  water  was 
like  glass,  and  we  could  see  the  bottom  quite  clearly 
at  nine  fathoms.  It  was  like  fishing  in  an  aquarium. 
The  most  impossible  marine  monsters!  Turquoise- 
blue  fish ;  grey  and  pink  fish ;  some  green  and  scarlet, 
others  as  yellow  as  canaries.  We  could  follow  our 
lines  right  down  to  the  bottom,  and  see  the  fish  hook 
themselves  amongst  the  jagged  coral,  till  the  bottom- 
boards  of  the  boat  looked  like  a  rainbow  with  our 
victims.  As  the  breeze  sprang  up,  the  surf  started  at 
once,  and  fishing  became  impossible.  We  had  been 
warned  that  many  of  the  reef  fish  were  uneatable, 
and  that  the  yellow  ones  were  actively  poisonous.  We 
were  quite  proud  of  our  Joseph's-coat-like  catch,  but 
our  henchman,  the  negro  lad  Arthur,  assured  us  that 
every  fish  we  had  caught  was  poisonous.  We  had  rea- 
son later  to  doubt  this  assertion,  as  we  saw  him  walk- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  187 

ing  home  with  a  splendid  parti-coloured  string  of  fish, 
probably  chuckling  over  the  white  man's  credulity. 

The  natural  surroundings  of  that  school  were  lovely, 
but  the  little  white  boys,  who  had  lived  all  their  lives 
in  Jamaica,  most  likely  took  it  all  for  granted,  and 
thought  it  quite  natural  to  have  their  bathing-place 
surrounded  by  cocoa-nut  palms,  their  playground 
fringed  with  hibiscus  and  scarlet  poinsettias,  and  the 
garden  a  riot  of  mangoes,  bread-fruits,  nutmeg  and 
cinnamon  trees. 

No  doubt  they  thought  their  school  and  its  grounds 
dull  and  hideous.  On  a  subsequent  voyage  home  from 
Jamaica,  there  was  on  board  a  very  small  boy  from 
this  identical  school,  on  his  way  to  a  school  in  Scotland. 
He  seemed  about  eight ;  a  little,  sturdy  figure  in  white 
cotton  shorts.  He  was  really  much  older,  and  it  was 
curious  to  hear  a  deep  bass  voice  (with  a  strong  Scot- 
tish accent)  issuing  from  so  small  a  frame.  He  was 
a  very  independent  little  Scot,  wanting  no  help,  and 
quite  able  to  take  care  of  himself.  We  arrived  at 
Bristol  in  bitterly  cold  weather,  and  the  boy,  who  had 
been  five  years  in  Jamaica,  had  only  his  tropical  cloth- 
ing. We  left  him  on  the  platform  of  Bristol  station, 
a  forlorn  little  figure,  shivering  in  his  inadequate  white 
cotton  shorts,  and  blue  with  the  unaccustomed  cold,  to 
commence  his  battle  with  the  world  alone,  but  still 
declining  any  assistance  in  reaching  his  destination. 
That  boy  had  a  brief,  but  most  distinguished  career. 
He  passed  second  out  of  Sandhurst,  sweeping  the 
board  of  prizes,  including  the  King's  Prize,  Lord 
Roberts'  Prize,  the  Sword  of  Honour,  and  the  riding 


188  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

and  shooting  prizes.  He  chose  the  Indian  Army,  and 
the  9th  Goorkhas  as  his  regiment,  a  choice  he  had 
made,  as  he  told  me  afterwards,  since  his  earliest  boy- 
hood, when  Rudyard  Kipling's  books  had  first  opened 
his  eyes  to  a  new  world.  That  lad  proved  to  have 
the  most  extraordinary  natural  gift  for  Oriental  lan- 
guages. Within  two  years  of  his  first  arrival  in  India 
he  had  passed  in  higher  Urdu,  in  higher  Hindi,  in 
Punjabi,  and  in  Pushtoo.  Norman  Kemp  had,  in  ad- 
dition, some  curious  intuitive  faculty  for  understand- 
ing the  Oriental  mind,  and  was  a  born  leader  of  men. 
He  was  a  wonderful  all-round  sportsman,  and  prom- 
ised to  be  one  of  the  finest  soldier- jockeys  India  has 
ever  turned  out,  for  here  his  light  weight  and  very 
diminutive  size  were  assets.  He  came  to  France  with 
the  first  Indian  contingent,  went  through  eighteen 
months'  heavy  fighting  there,  and  then  took  part  in 
the  relief  of  Kut,  where  he  won  the  M.C.  for  con- 
spicuous valour  on  the  field,  and  afterwards  gained 
the  D.S.O.  I  have  heard  him  conversing  in  five  dif- 
ferent languages  with  the  wounded  Indian  soldiers 
in  the  Pavilion  Hospital  at  Brighton  (with  the  Scot- 
tish accent  underlying  them  all) ,  and  noted  the  thor- 
ough understanding  there  was  between  him  and  the 
men.  Young  as  he  was,  he  had  managed  to  get  inside 
the  Oriental  mind.  He  was  killed  in  a  paltry  frontier 
affray,  six  months  after  the  Armistice.  I  am  con- 
vinced that  Norman  Kemp  would  have  made  a  great 
name  for  himself  had  he  lived.  He  had  the  peculiar 
faculty  of  gaining  the  confidence  of  the  Oriental,  and 
I  think  that  he  would  have  eventually  drifted  from 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  189 

the  Military  to  the  Political  or  Administrative  side 
in  India.    He  was  a  splendid  little  fellow. 

Nearly  twenty-five  years  earlier,  I  had  known  an- 
other very  similar  type  of  young  man.  He  was  a 
subaltern  in  the  Norfolk  Regiment,  and  a  great  school- 
friend  of  a  nephew  of  mine.  Chafing  at  the  monot- 
ony of  regimental  life,  he  got  seconded,  and  went 
out  to  the  Nigerian  Frontier  Field  Force.  Here  that 
young  fellow  of  twenty-two,  who  had  hitherto  con- 
fined his  energies  to  playing  football  and  boxing, 
proved  himself  not  only  a  natural  leader  of  men,  but 
a  born  administrator  as  well.  He  quickly  gained  the 
confidence  of  his  Haussa  troops,  and  then  set  to  work 
to  improve  the  sanitary  conditions  of  Jebba,  where 
he  was  stationed.  He  equipped  the  town  with  a  good 
water-supply,  as  well  as  with  a  system  of  drainage, 
and  planted  large  vegetable  gardens,  so  that  the  Euro- 
pean residents  need  no  longer  be  entirely  dependent 
on  tinned  foods.  It  was  Ronald  Buxton,  too,  who 
first  had  the  idea  of  building  houses  on  tripods  of  rail- 
way metals,  to  raise  them  above  the  deadly  ground- 
mists.  Thanks  to  him,  the  place  became  reasonably 
healthy,  and  his  powers  of  organisation  being  quickly 
recognised,  he  was  transferred  from  the  Military  to 
the  Administrative  side.  His  whole  heart  was  in  his 
work.  Like  young  Kemp,  Buxton  always  stayed  in 
my  house  when  on  leave.  Though  the  most  tempting 
invitations  to  shoot  and  to  hunt  rained  in  on  him 
whilst  in  England,  he  was  always  fretting  and  chafing 
to  be  back  at  work  in  his  pestilential  West  African 
swamp,  where  he  lived  on  a  perpetual  diet  of  bully 


190  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

beef  and  yams  in  a  leaky  native  grass-built  hut.  Like 
young  Kemp,  he  was  absolutely  indifferent  to  the 
ordinary  comforts  of  life,  and  appeared  really  to  en- 
joy hardships,  and  they  were  both  quite  insensible 
to  the  attractions  of  money.  He  was  killed  in  the 
South  African  War,  or  would,  I  am  sure,  have  had  a 
most  distinguished  Colonial  career.  These  two  young 
men  seemed  created  to  be  pioneers  in  rough  lands. 
As  far  as  my  own  experience  goes,  it  is  only  these 
Islands  that  produce  young  men  of  the  precise  stamp 
of  Norman  Kemp  and  Ronald  Buxton. 


CHAPTER  VII 

Appalling  ignorance  of  geography  amongst  English  people — 
Novel  pedagogic  methods — "Happy  Families" — An  in- 
structive game — Bermuda — A  waterless  island — A  most  in- 
viting archipelago — Bermuda  the  most  northern  coral-atoll 
— The  reefs  and  their  polychrome  fish — A  "water-glass" — 
Sea-gardens — An  ideal  sailing  place — How  the  Guardsman 
won  his  race — A  miniature  Parliament — Unfounded  asper- 
sions on  the  Bermudians — Red  and  blue  birds — Two  pardon- 
able mistakes — Soldier  gardeners — Officers'  wives — The 
little  roaming  home-makers — A  pleasant  island — The  in- 
quisitive German  Naval  Officers — "The  Song  of  the  Ber- 
mudians." 

THE  crass  ignorance  of  the  average  Englishman  about 
geography  is  really  appalling.  He  neither  knows, 
nor  wants  to  know,  anything  about  it,  and  oddly 
enough  seems  to  think  that  there  is  something  rather 
clever  about  his  dense  ignorance.  This  ignorance  ex- 
tends to  our  statesmen,  as  we  know  by  the  painful 
experience  of  some  of  our  treaties,  which  can  only 
have  been  drawn  up  by  men  grossly  ignorant  of  the 
parts  of  the  world  about  which  they  were  supposed 
to  be  negotiating.  I  quite  admit  that  geography  is 
almost  ignored  in  our  schools,  and  yet  no  branch  of 
knowledge  can  be  made  so  attractive  to  the  young, 
and,  taught  in  conjunction  with  history,  as  it  should 
be,  none  is  of  higher  educational  value.  At  the  re- 
quest of  two  clerical  friends,  I  gave  some  geography 
lessons  last  year  to  the  little  boys  in  their  schools. 
My  methods  were  admittedly  illegitimate.  In  the 


192  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

course  of  the  last  fifteen  years  I  have  sent  hundreds 
of  coloured  picture-postcards  of  places  all  over  the 
world,  in  Asia,  Africa,  Europe  and  America,  to  a 
small  great-nephew  of  mine,  now  of  an  age  when 
such  things  no  longer  appeal  to  him.  Armed  with 
my  big  bundle  of  postcards,  and  with  another  parcel 
as  well,  I  tackled  my  small  pupils.  I  never  spoke  to 
them  of  a  place  without  showing  them  a  set  of  views 
of  it,  for  I  have  a  theory  that  the  young  remember 
more  by  the  eye  than  by  the  ear.  In  this  way  a  place- 
name  conveyed  to  them  a  definite  idea,  for  they  had 
seen  half-a-dozen  somewhat  garishly  coloured  pre- 
sentments of  it.  The  young  love  colour.  Then  my 
second  method  came  into  play.  "Evans,  what  did 
I  tell  you  last  time  grew  in  Jamaica?"  "Sugar  and 
coffee,  sir."  "Next  boy,  what  else?"  "Pepper,  salt 
Land  mustard,  sir."  "Young  idiot!  Next  boy."  "Co- 
coa, sir,  and  ginger."  "Very  good,  Oxley.  Bring 
me  that  long  parcel  there.  There  is  enough  preserved 
ginger  for  two  pieces  for  each  boy;  Ellis,  who  gave 
a  silly  answer,  gets  none."  "Baker,  what  fruit  did  I 
tell  you  grew  in  the  West  Indies?"  "Pineapples, 
sir."  "Very  good,  Baker.  Bring  me  those  two  tins 
of  pineapple  and  the  tin-opener.  Plenty  for  you 
all."  My  lessons  were  quite  enormously  popular  with 
my  pupils,  though  the  matron  complained  that  the 
boys  seemed  liable  to  bilious  attacks  after  them. 

In  the  days  of  my  childhood,  some  ingenious  per- 
son had  devised  a  game  known  as  "Educational  Quar- 
tettes." These  "quartettes"  were  merely  another 
form  of  the  game  of  "Happy  Families,"  which  seems 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  193 

to  make  so  persistent  an  appeal  to  the  young.  Every 
one  must  be  familiar  with  it.  The  underlying  prin- 
ciple is  that  any  possessor  of  one  card  of  any  family 
may  ask  another  player  for  any  missing  card  of  the 
suit ;  in  this  way  the  whereabouts  of  the  cards  can  be 
gradually  ascertained,  and  "Mr.  Bones  the  Butcher" 
finds  himself  eventually  reunited,  doubtless  to  his 
great  joy,  to  his  worthy,  if  unprepossessing  spouse, 
Mrs.  Bones,  and  to  his  curiously  hideous  offspring, 
Miss  Bones  and  Master  Bones.  The  same  holds  good 
with  regard  to  the  other  families,  those  of  Mr.  Bun 
the  Baker,  Mr.  Pots  the  Painter,  and  their  friends, 
and  we  can  only  hope  that  these  families  make  up  in 
moral  worth  for  their  painful  lack  of  physical  attrac- 
tions. "Educational  Quartettes"  were  played  in  ex- 
actly the  same  way.  At  the  age  of  six,  I  played  them 
every  night  with  my  sisters  and  brother,  and  the  set 
we  habitually  used  was  "English  Ecclesiastical  Archi- 
tecture." In  lieu  of  Mr.  Bung  the  Brewer,  we  had 
"Norman  Style,  1066-1145."  Mrs.  Bung  was  re- 
placed by  "Massive  Columns,"  Miss  Bung  by  "Round 
Arches,"  Master  Bung  by  "Dog-tooth  Mouldings," 
each  one  with  its  picture.  The  next  Quartette  was 
"Early  English,  1189-1307."  No.  2  being  "Clus- 
tered Columns,"  No.  3  "Pointed  Arches,"  No.  4 
"Lancet  Windows,"  each  one  again  with  its  picture, 
and  so  on  through  the  later  styles.  We  had  none  of 
us  the  least  idea  that  we  were  being  educated;  we 
thought  that  we  were  merely  playing  a  game,  but  the 
information  got  insensibly  absorbed  through  ear  and 
eye,  and  remained  there. 


194  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

Never  shall  I  forget  the  astonishment  of  a  clergy- 
man who  was  showing  his  church  to  my  youngest 
brother  and  myself,  he  then  being  aged  nine,  and  I 
eleven.  The  Vicar  observed  that,  had  we  been  older, 
we  would  have  found  his  church  very  interesting  ar- 
chitecturally, when  my  nine-year-old  brother  re- 
marked quite  casually,  "Where  we  are,  it  is  decorated 
1307-1377,  but  by  the  organ  it's  Early  English,  1189- 
1307."  The  clergyman,  no  doubt,  thought  him  a  pre- 
cocious little  prig,  but  from  perpetually  playing  Ar- 
chitectural Quartettes,  this  little  piece  of  information 
came  instinctively  from  him,  for  he  had  absorbed  it 
unconsciously. 

Another  set  we  habitually  played  was  entitled  "Fa- 
mous Travellers,"  and  even  after  the  lapse  of  fifty- 
six  years,  many  of  the  names  still  stick  in  my  memory. 
For  instance  under  "North  Africa"  came  2,  Jules 
Gerard ;  3,  Barth ;  4,  Denham  and  Clapperton.  Jules 
Gerard's  name  was  familiar  to  me,  for  was  he  not, 
like  the  illustrious  Tartarin  de  Tarascon,  a  tueur  de 
lions?  It  was,  indeed,  Jules  Gerard's  example  which 
first  fired  the  imagination  of  the  immortal  Tarascon- 
nais,  though  personally  I  confess  to  a  slight  feeling  of 
disappointment  at  learning  from  Gerard's  biographer 
that,  in  spite  of  his  grandiloquent  title,  his  total  bag 
of  lions  in  eleven  years  was  only  twenty-five.  As  to 
the  German,  Heinrich  Barth,  my  knowledge  of  him 
is  of  the  slightest,  and  I  plead  guilty  to  complete  ig- 
norance about  Denham  and  Clapperton's  exploits, 
though  their  names  seem  more  suggestive  oi"  a  firm 
of  respectable  family  solicitors  or  of  a  small  railway 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  195 

station  on  a  branch  line,  than  of  two  distinguished 
travellers.  The  main  point  is  that  after  an  interval 
of  more  than  half  a  century,  these  names  should  have 
stuck  in  my  memory,  thus  testifying  to  the  educational 
value  of  the  game.  I  wish  that  some  educationalist, 
taking  advantage  of  the  proved  liking  of  children  for 
this  form  of  game,  would  revive  these  Quartettes,  for 
there  is  an  immense  advantage  in  a  child  learning  un- 
consciously. I  think  that  geography  could  be  easily 
taught  in  this  way;  for  instance:  1.  France  (capital 
Paris).  2.  Lyons  and  Marseilles.  3.  Bordeaux  and 
Rouen.  4.  Lille  and  Strasbourg.  Coloured  maps 
or  views  of  the  various  cities  would  be  indispensable, 
for  I  still  maintain  that  a  child  remembers  through 
its  eyes.  In  my  youth  I  was  given  a  most  excellent 
little  manual  of  geography  entitled  Near  Home,  em- 
bellished with  many  crude  woodcuts.  The  book  had 
admittedly  an  extremely  strong  religious  bias,  but  it 
was  written  in  a  way  calculated  to  interest  the  young, 
and  thanks  to  the  woodcuts  most  of  its  information 
got  permanently  absorbed.  Perhaps  some  one  with 
greater  experience  in  such  matters  than  I  can  pre- 
tend to,  may  devise  a  more  effectual  scheme  for  com- 
bating the  crass  ignorance  of  most  English  people 
about  geography. 

Should  one  ask  the  average  Englishman  where  Ber- 
muda is,  he  would  be  certain  to  reply,  "Somewhere 
in  the  West  Indies,"  which  is  exactly  where  it  is  not. 

This  fascinating  archipelago  of  coral  islands  forms 
an  isolated  little  group  in  the  North  Atlantic,  six 
hundred  miles  from  the  United  States,  three  thou- 


196  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

sand  miles  from  Europe,  and  twelve  hundred  miles 
north  of  the  West  Indies.  Bermuda  is  the  second 
oldest  British  Colonial  possession,  ranking  only  after 
Newfoundland,  which  was  discovered  by  John  Cabot 
in  1497,  and  occupied  in  the  name  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth in  1583.  Sir  George  Somers  being  wrecked  on 
Bermuda  in  1609,  at  once  retaliated  by  annexing  the 
group,  though,  as  there  is  not  one  drop  of  water  on 
any  of  the  islands,  there  were  naturally  no  aboriginal 
inhabitants  to  dispute  his  claim. 

Bermuda  is  to  me  a  perpetual  economic  puzzle,  for 
it  seems  to  defy  triumphantly  all  the  rules  which  gov- 
ern other  places.  Here  is  a  group  of  islands  whose 
total  superficies  is  only  12,500  acres,  of  which  little 
more  than  one-tenth  is  capable  of  cultivation.  There 
is  no  fresh  water  whatever,  the  inhabitants  being  en- 
tirely dependent  on  the  rainfall  for  their  supply;  and 
yet  some  22,000  people,  white  and  coloured,  live  there 
in  great  prosperity,  and  there  is  no  poverty  what- 
ever. I  almost  hesitate  before  adding  that  there  are 
no  taxes  in  Bermuda  beyond  a  10  per  cent,  ad  valorem 
duty  on  everything  imported  into  the  islands  except 
foodstuffs ;  for  the  housing  accommodation  is  already 
rather  overstrained,  and  should  this  fact  become  gen- 
erally known,  I  apprehend  that  there  would  be  such 
an  influx  into  Bermuda  from  the  United  Kingdom  of 
persons  desirous  of  escaping  from  our  present  crush- 
ing burden  of  taxation,  that  the  many  caves  of  the 
archipelago  would  all  have  to  be  fitted  up  as  lodging- 
houses.  The  real  explanation  of  the  prosperity  of 
the  islands  is  probably  to  be  found  in  the  wonderful 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  197 

fertility  of  the  soil,  which  produces  three  crops  a  year, 
and  in  the  immense  tourist  traffic  during  the  winter 
months. 

The  islands  were  originally  settled  in  rather  a  curi- 
ous way.  Certain  families,  my  own  amongst  them, 
took  shares  in  the  "Bermuda  Company,"  and  each 
undertook  to  plant  a  little  "tribe"  there.  These 
"tribes"  seem  to  have  come  principally  from  Norfolk 
and  Lincolnshire,  as  is  shown  by  the  names  of  the 
principal  island  families.  The  Triminghams,  the 
Tuckers,  the  Inghams,  the  Pennistones,  and  the  Out- 
erbridges  have  all  been  there  since  the  early  sixteen 
hundreds.  Probably  nowhere  in  the  world  is  the 
colour-line  drawn  more  rigidly  than  in  Bermuda; 
white  and  coloured  never  meet  socially,  and  there  are 
separate  schools  for  white  and  black  children.  This 
is,  of  course,  due  to  the  instinct  of  self-preservation; 
in  so  small  a  community  it  would  have  been  impossible 
otherwise  for  the  white  settlers  to  keep  their  blood 
pure  for  three  hundred  years.  The  names  of  the 
different  parishes  show  the  families  who  originally 
took  shares  in  the  Bermuda  Company;  Pembroke, 
Devonshire,  Hamilton,  Warwick,  Paget,  and  Somer- 
set amongst  others. 

They  are  the  most  delightful  islands  imaginable. 
The  vegetation  is  sub-tropical  rather  than  tropical, 
and  all  the  islands  are  clothed  with  a  dense  growth  of 
Bermudian  cedar  (really  a  juniper) ,  and  of  oleander. 
I  have  never  seen  a  sea  of  deeper  sapphire-blue,  and 
this  is  reflected  not  from  above,  but  from  below,  and 
is  due  to  the  bed  of  white  coral  sand  beneath  the  water. 


198  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

On  the  dullest  day  the  water  keeps  its  deep-blue  tint. 
When  the  oleanders  are  in  bloom,  the  milk-white 
houses,  peeping  out  from  this  sheet  of  rose-pink,  with 
the  deep  indigo  of  the  sea,  and  the  sombre  green  of 
the  cedars,  make  one  of  the  most  enchanting  pictures 
that  it  is  possible  to  imagine. 

Bermuda  has  distinctly  an  island  climate,  which  is 
perhaps  fortunate,  as  the  inhabitants  are  entirely  de- 
pendent on  rain-water.  With  a  north  wind  there  is 
brilliant  sunshine  tempered  by  occasional  terrific 
downpours.  With  a  south  wind  there  is  a  perpetual 
warm  drizzle  varied  with  heavy  showers.  With  a  west 
wind  the  weather  is  apt  to  be  uncertain,  but  I  was  as- 
sured that  an  east  wind  brought  settled,  fine  weather. 
I  never  recollect  an  east  wind  in  Bermuda,  but  my 
climatic  reminiscences  only  extend  to  the  winter 
months. 

Bermuda  is  the  most  northern  coral-atoll  existing, 
and  is  the  only  place  where  I  have  actually  seen  the 
coral  insect  at  work  on  the  reefs.  He  is  not  an  insect 
at  all,  but  a  sort  of  black  slug.  These  curious  crea- 
tures have  all  an  inherited  tendency  to  suicide,  for 
when  the  coral-worm  gets  above  the  tide-level  he  dies. 
Still  they  work  bravely  away,  obsessed  with  the  idea 
of  raising  their  own  particular  reef  well  out  of  the 
water  at  the  cost  of  their  own  lives.  The  coral  of  a 
reef  is  an  ugly  brown  substance  which  has  been  inele- 
gantly compared  to  a  decayed  tooth.  Not  until  the 
coral  is  pulverised  does  it  take  on  its  milk-white  col- 
our. I  am  told  by  learned  people  that  Bermuda,  like 
most  coral  islands,  is  of  ^olian  formation;  that  is, 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  199 

that  the  powdered  coral  has  been  gradually  deposited 
by  the  winds  of  countless  centuries  until  it  has  risen 
high  out  of  the  water.  Farther  south  in  the  tropics, 
we  know  what  happens.  Nature  has  given  the  cocoa- 
nut  the  power  of  preserving  its  vitality  almost  indefi- 
nitely. The  fallen  nuts  float  on  the  sea  and  drift 
hither  and  thither.  Once  washed  up  on  a  beach  and 
dried  by  the  sun,  the  nut  thrusts  out  lijttle  green 
suckers  from  those  "eyes"  which  every  one  must  have 
noticed  on  cocoa-nuts,  anchors  itself  firmly  into  the 
soil,  and  in  seven  years  will  be  bearing  fruit.  The 
fallen  fronds  decay  and  make  soil,  and  so  another  is- 
land becomes  gradually  clothed  with  vegetation.  In 
Bermuda  the  cedar  replaces  the  cocoa-nut  palm. 

Fishing  on  the  reefs  in  Bermuda  is  the  best  fun 
imaginable  for  persons  not  liable  to  sea-sickness.  The 
fisherman  has  in  his  left  hand  a  "water-glass,"  which 
is  merely  a  stout  box  with  the  bottom  filled  in  with 
plate-glass.  The  water-glass  must  be  held  below  the 
ripple  of  the  surface,  which,  by  the  way,  requires  a 
fair  amount  of  muscular  effort,  when  through  the 
pane  of  glass,  the  sea-floor  ten  fathoms  below  is  clearly 
visible.  The  coloured  fish  of  Jamaica  were  neutral- 
tinted  pigmies  compared  to  the  polychrome  monsters 
on  a  Bermudian  reef,  and  one  could  actually  see  them 
swallowing  one's  bait.  One  of  the  loveliest  fishes  that 
swims  is  the  Bermudian  angel-fish,  who  has  the  fur- 
ther merit  of  almost  equalling  a  sole  when  fried. 
Shaped  like  a  John  Dory,  he  has  a  lemon-coloured 
body  with  a  back  of  brilliant  turquoise-blue,  which 
gleams  in  the  water  like  vivid  blue  enamel.  He  is  fur- 


200  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

ther  decorated  with  two  long  orange  streamers.  The 
angel-fish,  having  a  very  small  mouth,  must  be  fished 
for  with  a  special  hook.  Then  there  is  the  queen- 
turbot,  shaded  from  dark  blue  to  palest  turquoise,  re- 
minding one  of  Lord's  Cricket  Ground  at  an  Eton 
and  Harrow  match ;  besides  pink  fish,  scarlet  fish,  and 
orange  fish,  which  when  captured  make  the  bottom- 
boards  of  the  boat  look  like  a  Futurist  landscape,  not 
to  speak  of  horrible,  spotted,  eel-like  creatures  whose 
bite  is  venomous.  Reef -fishing  is  full  of  exciting  inci- 
dents, but  its  chief  attraction  is  the  amazing  beauty 
of  the  sea-gardens  as  seen  through  the  water-glass, 
with  sponges  and  sea-fans  of  every  hue,  gently  wav- 
ing in  the  current  far  below,  as  fish  of  all  the  colours 
of  the  rainbow  play  in  and  out  of  them  in  the  clear 
blue  water. 

At  Bermuda  I  found  my  old  friend,  the  Guards- 
man, established  at  Government  House  as  A.D.C. 
The  island  is  one  of  the  most  ideal  places  in  the  world 
for  boat-sailing,  and  the  Guardsman  had  taken  up 
yacht  racing  with  his  usual  enthusiasm;  atoning  for 
his  lack  of  experience  by  a  persistent  readiness  to  take 
the  most  hideous  risks.  The  C.O.  of  the  British  bat- 
talion then  stationed  in  Bermuda  was  rather  hard  put 
to  it  to  find  sufficient  employment  for  his  men,  owing 
to  the  restricted  area  of  the  island.  He  encouraged, 
therefore,  their  engagements  in  civilian  capacities,  as 
it  not  only  put  money  into  the  men's  pockets,  but  kept 
them  interested.  At  Government  House  we  had  sol- 
dier-gardeners, soldier-grooms,  a  soldier  cowman,  and 
a  soldier-footman.  The  footman  was  a  Southampton 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  201 

lad,  and  having  been  employed  as  a  boy  in  a  racing- 
yacht  on  the  Solent,  was  a  most  useful  man  in  a  boat, 
and  the  Guardsman  had  accordingly  annexed  him  as 
one  of  his  racing  crew,  regardless  of  the  fact  that  his 
labours  afloat  rather  interfered  with  the  specific  do- 
mestic duties  ashore  for  which  he  had  been  engaged  by 
the  Governor.  A  hundred-year-old  yacht  had  for  many 
years  been  handed  over  from  Governor  to  Governor. 
The  Lady  of  the  Isles  was  Bermudian-rigged  and 
Bermudian-built  of  cedar-wood.  She  had  great  beam, 
and  was  very  lightly  sparred,  having  a  correspond- 
ingly small  sail-area,  but  in  spite  of  her  great  age  she 
was  still  absolutely  sound  and  was  a  splendid  sea-boat. 
The  Bermudian  rig  had  been  evolved  to  meet  local 
conditions.  Imagine  a  cutter  with  one  single  long 
spar  in  the  place  of  a  mast  and  topmast;  this  spar  is 
stepped  rather  farther  aft  than  it  would  be  in  an  or- 
dinary cutter,  and  there  is  one  huge  mainsail,  "leg- 
of-mutton"  shaped,  with  a  boom  but  no  gaff,  and  a 
very  large  jib.  Owing  to  their  big  head-sails,  and  to 
their  heavy  keels,  these  Bermudian  craft  fore-reach 
like  a  steamer,  and  hardly  ever  miss  stays.  For  the 
same  reason  they  are  very  wet,  as  they  bury  them- 
selves in  the  water.  A  handsome  silver  cup  had  been 
presented  by  a  visitor  for  a  yacht  race  right  round 
the  Bermudas,  and  the  Guardsman  managed  to  per- 
suade the  Governor  to  enter  his  centenarian  yacht  for 
this  race,  and  to  confide  the  sailing  of  her  to  himself. 
The  ancient  Lady  of  the  Isles  got  a  very  liberal  time 
allowance  on  account  of  her  age  and  her  small  spread 
of  canvas,  but  to  every  one  but  the  Guardsman  it 


seemed  like  entering  a  Clydesdale  for  the  Derby.  He 
had  already  formulated  his  plan,  but  kept  it  strictly 
to  himself;  for  its  success  half  a  gale  of  wind  was 
necessary.  I  agreed  to  sail  with  him,  and  as  the  start 
was  to  be  at  6  a.m.  I  got  up  three  mornings  running 
at  4  a.m.,  and  found  myself  with  Joss,  the  Guards- 
man, and  the  soldier-footman  on  the  water-front  at 
half -past  five  in  the  morning,  only  to  discover  that 
there  was  not  the  faintest  breath  of  air,  and  that 
Hamilton  Harbour  lay  one  unruffled  sheet  of  lapis- 
lazuli  in  a  flat  calm ;  a  state  of  things  I  should  imagine 
unparalled  in  "the  still  vexed  Bermoothes."  (How  on 
earth  did  Shakespeare  ever  come  to  hear  of  Ber- 
muda?) Three  days  running  the  race  was  declared 
"off,"  so  when  the  Guardsman  awoke  me  on  the  fourth 
morning  with  the  news  that  it  was  blowing  a  full  gale, 
I  flatly  declined  to  move,  and  turned  over  and  went  to 
sleep  again,  thereby  saving  my  nerves  a  considerable 
trial. 

Government  House  has  a  signal-station  of  its  own, 
and  at  ten  o'clock  a  message  arrived  announcing  that 
the  Lady  of  the  Isles  was  leading  by  four  miles.  The 
Governor,  who  had  never  taken  his  old  yacht's  entry 
seriously,  grew  tremendously  excited,  ordered  a  light 
trap  and  two  fast  ponies  round,  and  he  and  I, 
equipped  with  telescopes  and  sandwiches,  spent  the 
rest  of  the  day  tearing  from  one  end  of  the  island  to 
the  other,  now  on  the  south  shore,  now  on  the  north 
shore,  lying  on  our  stomachs  with  telescopes  to  our 
eyes.  It  was  quite  true  that  the  old  centenarian  had 
a  tremendous  lead,  which  was  gradually  decreased  as 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  203 

the  day  went  on.  Still,  the  Guardsman,  with  face 
and  hands  the  colour  of  a  copper  kettle,  appeared 
triumphantly  at  dinner  with  a  large  silver  cup  which 
he  presented  with  a  bow  to  Lady  Wodehouse,  the 
Governor's  wife,  whilst  the  soldier-footman,  burnt 
redder  than  the  Reddest  of  Indians  above  his  white 
shirt  and  tie,  grinned  sympathetically  as  he  busied 
himself  over  his  duties  with  the  cauliflowers  and  po- 
tatoes. What  had  happened  was  this:  the  race  was 
right  round  the  islands,  without  any  mark-boats  to 
round.  There  was  a  very  heavy  sea  running,  and 
great  breakers  were  washing  over  the  reefs.  The 
other  yachts  all  headed  for  the  "gate,"  or  opening  in 
the  reefs,  but  the  Guardsman,  a  keen  hunting  man, 
knowing  that  alone  of  the  competitors  the  old  Lady 
of  the  Isles  had  no  "fin-keel,"  had  determined  to  try 
and  jump  the  reef.  In  spite  of  the  frantic  protests 
of  the  black  pilot,  he  headed  straight  for  the  reef, 
and,  watching  his  opportunity,  put  her  fairly  at  it  as 
a  big  sea  swept  along,  and  got  over  without  a  scrape, 
thus  gaining  six  miles.  It  was  a  horribly  risky  pro- 
ceeding, for  had  they  bumped,  the  old  yacht  would 
have  gone  to  pieces,  and  the  big  sharks  lie  hungrily 
off  the  reefs.  The  one  chance  for  the  broad-beamed 
old  boat,  with  her  small  sail-area,  was  a  gale  of  wind, 
for  here  her  wonderful  qualities  as  a  sea-boat  came 
in.  I  often  sailed  in  races  with  the  Guardsman  in  a 
smaller  modern  boat,  much  to  the  detriment  of  my 
nervous  system,  for  he  was  incorrigible  about  taking 
risks,  in  which  he  was  abetted  by  the  soldier-footman, 
a  sporting  youth  who*  being  always  given  a  pecuniary 


204  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

interest  in  the  races,  was  quite  willing  to  take  chances. 
The  Guardsman,  as  a  hunting  man,  never  seemed  to 
realise  that  a  yacht  had  not  the  same  jumping  powers 
as  a  horse,  and  that  a  reef  was  a  somewhat  formidable 
barrier  to  tackle. 

Owing  to  Bermudian  boats  being  so  "wet,"  one 
always  landed  soaked  to  the  skin,  and  in  any  town 
but  Hamilton,  people  would  have  stared  at  seeing 
three  drowned  rats  in  white  garments,  clinging  like 
tights,  making  their  dripping  way  home  through  the 
streets;  but  there  it  is  such  an  everyday  occurrence 
that  no  one  even  turned  their  heads ;  and,  as  the  sol- 
dier-footman was  fond  of  observing,  "It's  comfortable 
feeling  as  'ow  you're  so  wet  that  you  can't  get  no 
wetter  no'ow." 

Bermuda  has  its  own  little  Parliament  of  thirty-six 
members,  the  oldest  Parliament  in  the  New  World. 
It  really  is  an  ideal  Chamber,  for  every  one  of  the 
thirty-six  members  sit  on  the  Government  side;  there 
is  no  Opposition.  The  electors  do  not  seem  to  favour 
youthful  representatives,  for  the  heads  of  the  legis- 
lators were  all  white  or  grey,  and  there  seemed  in  the 
atmosphere  a  wholesome  mistrust  of  innovations. 
There  was  great  popular  excitement  over  a  Bill  for 
permitting  the  use  of  motor-cars  in  the  islands,  a  Bill 
to  which  public  opinion  was  dead  opposed.  There 
was  some  reason  in  this  opposition.  The  roads  in  Ber- 
muda are  excellent,  but  they  are  all  made  of  coral, 
which  becomes  very  slippery  when  wet.  The  roads 
twist  a  great  deal,  and  the  island  is  hilly,  and  the  farm- 
ers complained  that  they  could  never  get  their  great 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  205 

wagons  of  vegetables  (locally  called  "garden-truck") 
down  to  the  harbour  in  safety  should  motor-cars  be 
permitted.  I  well  remember  one  white-headed  old 
gentleman  thundering  out :  "Our  fathers  got  on  with- 
out all  these  new-fangled  notions,  and  what  was  good 
enough  for  my  father  is  good  enough  for  me,  Mr. 
Speaker,"  a  sentiment  which  provoked  loud  outbursts 
of  applause.  Another  patriarch  observed:  "As  it  was 
in  the  beginning,  is  now,  and  ever  shall  be,  is  our  motto 
in  Bermuda,  Mr.  Speaker,"  a  confession  of  faith 
which  was  received  by  the  House  with  rapturous  en- 
thusiasm ;  so,  by  thirty-three  votes  to  three,  all  motors 
were  declared  illegal  in  the  islands. 

I  do  not  apprehend  that  there  will  ever  be  a  short- 
age of  building  materials  in  Bermuda,  for  this  is  how 
a  house  is  built.  The  whole  formation  being  of  coral, 
the  stones  are  quarried  on  the  actual  site  of  the  house, 
the  hole  thus  created  being  cemented  and  used  as  a 
cistern  for  the  rain-water  from  the  roof.  The  accom- 
modating coral  is  as  soft  as  cheese  when  first  cut,  but 
hardens  after  some  months'  exposure  to  the  air.  The 
soft  stones  are  shaped  as  wanted,  together  with  thin 
slabs  of  coral  for  the  roof,  and  are  then  all  left  to 
harden.  When  finished,  the  entire  house,  including 
the  roof,  is  whitewashed,  the  convenient  coral  also  fur- 
nishing the  whitening  material. 

These  white  roofs  give  quite  an  individual  charac- 
ter to  a  Bermudian  landscape,  their  object,  of  course, 
being  to  keep  the  rain-water  supply  pure.  The  men 
and  women  who  live  in  these  houses  are  really  delight- 
ful people,  and  are  all  perfectly  natural  and  unaf- 


206  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

fected.  They  are  all,  as  one  might  suppose  in  so 
small  a  place,  inter-related.  The  men  seem  to  have  a 
natural  aptitude  for  cricket,  whilst  Bermudian  girls 
can  all  dance,  swim,  play  lawn-tennis,  and  sail  boats 
to  perfection.  On  my  second  visit  to  the  islands,  I 
was  much  struck  with  one  small  incident.  Two  pretty 
sisters  were  always  the  first  arrivals  at  the  bi-weekly 
hotel  dances.  I  found  that  they  lived  on  the  far  side 
of  Hamilton  Harbour,  some  six  miles  by  road.  As 
they  could  not  afford  ten  dollars  twice  a  week  for  car- 
riage hire,  they  put  on  sea-boots  and  oilskins  over  their 
ball-gowns,  and  then  paddled  themselves  across  a  mile 
and  a  half  of  rough  water,  shook  out  their  creases  and 
touched  up  their  hair  on  arrival,  danced  all  the  eve- 
ning, and  then  paddled  themselves  home,  whatever 
the  weather.  Most  Bermudian  girls,  indeed,  seem 
quite  amphibious. 

I  went  out  the  second  time  with  a  great  friend  of 
mine,  who  was  anxious  to  see  her  son,  then  quartered 
in  the  island.  We  had  attended  the  Parade  Service 
on  Sunday  at  the  Garrison  Church,  and  my  friend  was 
resting  on  the  hotel  verandah,  when  she  heard  two 
American  ladies  talking.  "My  dear,"  said  one  of 
them,  "you  ought  to  have  come  up  to  that  Garrison 
Church.  I  tell  you,  it  was  a  right  smart,  snappy, 
dandy  little  Service,  with  a  Colonel  in  full  uniform 
reading  selections  from  the  Bible  from  a  gilt  eagle." 

Amongst  other  interesting  people  I  saw  a  good  deal 
of  at  that  time  in  Bermuda  was  "Mark  Twain,"  who 
had,  however,  begun  to  fail,  and  that  most  cultivated 
and  delightful  of  men,  the  late  William  Dean  How- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  207 

ells.  I  twice  met  at  luncheon  a  gentleman  who,  I  was 
told,  might  possibly  be  adopted  as  Democratic  Can- 
didate for  the  Presidency  of  the  United  States.  His 
name  was  Dr.  Woodrow  Wilson. 

Many  country  houses  in  Bermuda  have  pieces  of 
old  Chippendale  and  French  furniture  in  them,  as 
well  as  fine  specimens  of  old  French  and  Spanish 
silver.  I  entirely  discredit  the  malicious  rumours  I 
have  heard  about  the  origin  of  these  treasures.  All 
male  Bermudians  were  seafaring  folk  in  the  eigh- 
teenth century,  and  ill-natured  people  hint  that  these 
intrepid  mariners,  not  content  with  their  legitimate 
trading  profits,  were  occasionally  not  averse  to — a  lit- 
tle maritime  enterprise.  These  scandalmongers  in- 
sinuate that  in  addition  to  the  British  Ensign  under 
which  they  sailed,  another  flag  of  a  duskier  hue  was 
kept  in  a  convenient  locker,  and  was  occasionally 
hoisted  when  the  owner  felt  inclined  to  indulge  his 
tastes  as  a  collector  of  works  of  art,  or  to  act  as  a 
Marine  Agent.  I  do  not  believe  one  word  of  it,  and 
emphatically  decline  to  associate  such  kindly  people 
with  such  dubious  proceedings,  even  if  a  hundred  and 
fifty  years  have  elapsed  since  then. 

These  merchant-traders  conducted  their  affairs  on 
the  most  patriarchal  principles.  They  built  their  own 
schooners  of  their  own  cedar-wood,  and  sailed  them 
themselves  with  a  crew  of  their  own  black  slaves.  The 
invariable  round-voyage  was  rather  a  complicated  one. 
The  first  stage  was  from  Bermuda  in  ballast  to  Turks' 
Island,  in  the  British  Caicos  group.  At  Turks'  Is- 
land for  two  hundred  years  salt  has  been  prepared 


208  HERE,  THERE  AN  13  EVERYWHERE 

by  evaporating  sea-water.  The  Bermudian  owner 
filled  up  with  salt,  and  sailed  for  the  Banks  of  New- 
foundland, where  he  disposed  of  his  cargo  of  salt  to 
the  fishermen  for  curing  their  cod,  and  loaded  up  with 
salt-fish,  with  which  he  sailed  to  the  West  Indies. 
Salt-fish  has  always  been,  and  still  is,  the  staple  article 
of  diet  of  the  West  Indian  negro ;  so,  his  load  of  salt- 
fish  being  advantageously  disposed  of,  he  filled  up 
with  sugar,  coffee,  rum,  and  other  tropical  produce, 
and  left  for  New  York,  where  he  found  a  ready  sale 
for  his  cargo.  At  New  York  he  loaded  up  with  manu- 
factured goods  and  "Yankee  notions,"  and  returned 
to  Bermuda  to  dispose  of  them,  thus  completing  the 
round  trip;  but  I  still  refuse  to  credit  the  story  of 
other  and  less  legitimate  developments  of  mercantile 
enterprise.  Of  course,  should  Britain  be  at  war  with 
either  France  or  Spain,  and  should  a  richly  loaded 
French  or  Spanish  merchantman  happen  to  be  over- 
taken, things  might  obviously  be  a  little  different. 
The  Bermudian  owner  might  then  feel  it  his  duty  to 
relieve  the  vessel  of  any  objects  of  value  to  avoid 
tempting  the  cupidity  of  others  less  scrupulous  than 
himself;  but  I  cannot  believe  that  this  was  an  habitual 
practice,  and  should  the  dusky  flag  ever  have  been 
hoisted,  I  feel  certain  that  it  was  only  through  sheer 
inadvertence. 

I  know  of  one  country  house  in  Bermuda  where  the 
origin  of  all  the  beautiful  things  it  contains  is  above 
all  suspicion.  The  house  stands  on  a  knoll  overlook- 
ing the  ultramarine  waters  of  Hamilton  Harbour, 
and  is  surrounded  by  a  dense  growth  of  palms,  fiddle 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  209 

trees,  and  spice  trees.  The  rooms  are  panelled  in 
carved  cedar-wood,  and  there  is  charming  "grillage'* 
iron- work  in  the  fanlights  and  outside  gates.  There 
is  an  old  circular-walled  garden  with  brick  paths,  a 
perfect  blaze  of  colour ;  and  at  the  back  of  the  house, 
which  is  clothed  in  stephanotis  and  "Gloire  de  Dijon" 
roses,  an  avenue  of  flaming  scarlet  poinsettias  leads 
to  the  orchard:  it  is  a  delightful,  restful,  old-world 
place,  which,  together  with  its  inhabitants,  somehow 
still  retains  its  eighteenth-century  atmosphere. 

The  red  and  blue  birds  form  one  of  the  attrac- 
tions of  Bermuda.  The  male  red  bird,  the  Cardinal 
Grosbeak,  a  remarkably  sweet  songster,  wears  an  en- 
tire suit  of  vivid  carmine,  and  has  a  fine  tufted  crest  of 
the  same  colour,  whilst  his  wife  is  dressed  more  soberly 
in  dull  grey  bordered  with  red,  just  like  a  Netley  nurs- 
ing sister.  The  blue  birds  have  dull  red  breasts  like 
our  robins,  with  turquoise-blue  backs  and  wings,  glint- 
ing with  the  same  metallic  sheen  on  the  blue  that  the 
angel-fish  display  in  the  water.  As  with  our  king- 
fishers, one  has  the  sense  of  a  brilliant  flash  of  blue 
light  shooting  past  one.  The  red  and  blue  birds  are 
very  accommodating,  for  they  often  sit  on  the  same 
tree,  making  startling  splashes  of  colour  against  the 
sombre  green  of  the  cedars.  That  the  light  blue  may 
not  have  it  all  its  own  way,  there  is  the  indigo  bird 
as  well,  serving  as  a  reminder  of  Oxford  and  Har- 
row, and  pretty  little  ground-doves,  the  smallest  of 
the  pigeon  family,  as  well  as  the  "Chick-of -the- Vil- 
lage," a  most  engaging  little  creature.  Unfortunately 
some  one  was  injudicious  enough  to  import  the  Eng- 


210  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

lish  house-sparrow :  these  detestable  little  birds,  whose 
instincts  are  purely  mischievous  and  destructive,  like 
all  useless  things,  have  increased  at  an  enormous  rate, 
and  are  gradually  driving  the  beautiful  native  birds 
away.  All  these  birds  were  wonderfully  tame  till 
the  hateful  sparrows  began  molesting  them.  I  am 
glad  to  say  that  a  fine  of  £5  is  levied  on  any  one  kill- 
ing or  capturing  a  red  or  blue  bird,  and  I  only  wish 
that  a  reward  were  given  for  every  sparrow  killed. 
That  pleasant  writer  "Bartimeus,"  has  in  his  book 
Unreality  drawn  a  very  sympathetic  picture  of  Ber- 
muda under  the  transparent  alias  of  "Somer's  Is- 
land." He,  too,  has  obviously  fallen  a  victim  to  its 
charms,  and  duly  comments  on  the  blue  birds,  which 
Maeterlinck  could  find  here  in  any  number  without 
a  lengthy  and  painstaking  quest. 

As  a  boy,  whilst  exploring  rock-pools  at  low  water 
on  the  west  coast  of  Scotland,  I  used  to  think  long- 
ingly of  the  rock-pools  in  warm  seas,  which  I  pictured 
to  myself  as  perfect  treasure-houses  of  marine  curi- 
osities. They  are  most  disappointing.  Neither  in 
Bermuda,  nor  in  the  West  Indies,  nor  even  on  the 
Cape  Peninsula,  where  the  Indian  and  Atlantic 
Oceans  meet,  could  I  find  anything  whatever  in  the 
rock-pools.  To  adopt  the  Sunday  School  child's  word, 
there  seem  to  be  no  "tindamies"  on  the  beaches  of 
warm  seas.  Every  one  must  have  heard  of  the  little 
girl  who  got  her  first  glimpse  of  the  sea  on  a  Sunday 
School  excursion.  The  child  seemed  terribly  disap- 
pointed at  something,  and  in  answer  to  her  teacher's 
question,  said  that  she  liked  the  sea,  "but  please  where 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  211 

were  the  'tindamies'?  I  was  looking  forward  so  to  the 
tindamies!"  Pressed  for  an  explanation  the  little  girl 
repeated  from  the  Fourth  Commandment,  "In  six 
days  the  Lord  made  heaven  and  earth,  the  sea  and  all 
the  tindamies."  Tindamies  is  quite  a  convenient  word 
for  star-fish,  crabs,  cuttle-fish  and  other  flotsam  and 
jetsam  of  the  beach. 

The  Sunday  School  child's  mistake  is  rather  akin 
to  that  of  the  old  Sussex  shepherd  who  had  never 
had  a  day's  illness  in  his  life.  When  at  last  he  did 
take  to  his  bed,  it  was  quite  obvious  that  he  would 
never  leave  it  again.  The  vicar  of  the  parish  visited 
him  almost  daily  to  read  to  him.  The  old  man  always 
begged  the  clergyman  to  read  him  the  hymn,  "The 
roseate  hues  of  early  dawn."  At  the  tenth  request 
for  the  reading  of  this  hymn  the  clergyman  asked 
him  what  it  was  in  the  lines  that  made  such  an  ap- 
peal to  him.  "Ah,  sir,"  answered  the  old  shepherd, 
"here  I  lie,  and  I  know  full  well  that  I  shall  never 
get  up  again;  but  when  you  reads  me  that  beautiful 
'ymn,  I  fancies  myself  on  the  downs  again  at  day- 
break, and  can  just  see  'Them  rows  of  ewes  at  early 
dawn'!" 

Had  the  old  shepherd  lived  in  Bermuda  instead 
of  in  Sussex,  that  is  a  sight  which  he  would  never  have 
seen,  for  the  local  grass,  though  it  appears  green 
enough  to  the  eye,  is  a  coarse  growth  which  crackles 
under  the  feet  and  contains  no  nutriment  whatever 
as  pasture;  so  all  cows  have  to  be  fed  on  imported 
hay,  rendering  milk  very  costly.  For  the  same  rea- 
son all  meat  and  butter  have  to  be  imported,  and  their 


212  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

price  even  in  pre-war  days  was  sufficiently  staggering. 
The  high  cost  of  living  and  the  myriads  of  mosquitoes 
are  the  only  draw-backs  to  life  in  these  Delectable 
Islands.  That  no  systematic  effort  to  exterminate 
mosquitoes  has  ever  been  made  in  Bermuda  is  to  me 
incomprehensible,  for  these  mosquitoes  are  all  of  the 
Stegomyia,  or  yellow-fever-carrying  variety.  The 
Americans  have  shown,  both  in  the  Canal  Zone  and 
in  Havana,  that  with  sufficient  organisation  it  is  quite 
possible  to  extirpate  these  dangerous  pests,  and  the 
Bermudians  could  not  do  better  than  to  follow  their 
example. 

Our  soldier-gardeners  at  Government  House  had 
their  own  methods,  and  were  inclined  to  attach  im- 
portance to  points  considered  trivial  by  civilians.  The 
men  were  laying  out  a  new  vegetable  garden  for  the 
Governor,  and  I  went  with  the  corporal  one  evening 
to  inspect  progress.  The  corporal,  after  glancing  at 
the  new-planted  rows  of  vegetables,  shook  his  head 
in  deep  sadness.  '  'Arris,  'Arris,  I'm  surprised  at 
you !  Look  at  the  dressing  of  that  there  rear  rank  of 
lettuces.  Up  with  them  all!"  and  I  had  to  point  out 
that  the  lettuces  would  grow  quite  as  well,  and  prove 
just  as  succulent,  even  should  they  not  happen  to 
be  in  strict  alignment,  and  that  the  dressing  was  only 
important  at  a  subsequent  stage.  I  laid  out  a  new 
border  to  the  approach  for  the  Governor,  with  the 
help  of  four  soldiers,  and  it  was  really  rather  a  suc- 
cessful piece  of  work.  I  began  with  a  large  group  of 
Kentia  and  Chamseropes  palms,  after  which  came  a 
patch  of  bright  yellow  crotons,  giving  place  co  a 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  2ia 

thicket  of  a  white-foliaged  Mexican  shrub,  followed 
by  a  mass  of  crimson  and  orange  crotons  and  copper- 
coloured  coleus,  which  arrangement  I  repeated.  What 
with  scarlet  poinsettias,  many-hued  hibiscus,  and  the 
pretty  native  orange  pigeon-berry,  I  got  quite  an 
amount  of  colour  into  my  border. 

Pretty  as  are  the  gardens  of  Government  House, 
they  have  to  yield  the  palm  to  those  of  Admiralty 
House,  which  have  been  carefully  tended  by  genera- 
tions of  admirals.  Bartimeus  in  Unreality  grows 
quite  enthusiastic  over  these  gardens,  though  he  does 
not  mention  their  three  peculiarities.  One  is  a  foun- 
tain, the  only  one  in  the  islands.  As  there  is  not  one 
drop  of  fresh  water,  this  fountain  has  its  own  catch- 
ment area,  and  its  own  special  rain-water  tank.  My 
own  idea  is  that  the  Admiral  reserves  its  playing  for 
the  visits  of  foreign  naval  men,  to  delude  them  into  the 
idea  that  Bermuda  has  an  abundant  water  supply. 
The  second  unusual  feature  is  a  series  of  large  cham- 
bers hewn  out  of  the  solid  rock,  with  openings  towards 
the  sea.  These  caves  were  cut  out  by  convict  labour  as 
a  refuge  from  the  fierce  heat  of  the  summer  months. 
The  third  is  a  flat  tombstone  by  the  lawn-tennis 
ground,  inscribed  "Here  lies  a  British  Midshipman 
1810,"  nothing  more;  no  name,  no  age,  no  particulars. 
I  have  often  wondered  how  that  forlorn,  nameless, 
ageless  midshipman  came  to  be  lying  in  the  Admiral's 
garden.  He  was  probably  drowned  and  washed 
ashore  without  anything  to  identify  him,  so  they  buried 
him  where  they  found  him. 

The  particular  white  battalion  quartered  in  Ber- 


214  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

muda  during  my  first  visit  there  was  very  fortunate 
in  its  ladies,  for  it  had  an  unusual  proportion  of  mar- 
ried officers.  I  have  the  greatest  admiration  for  these 
plucky  little  women  who  accompany  their  husbands 
all  over  the  globe,  and  who  always  seem  to  manage, 
however  narrow  their  means,  to  create  a  cheerful  and 
attractive  little  home  for  their  menkind.  They  all 
appeared  able  to  dress  themselves  well,  though,  if 
the  truth  were  known,  they  were  probably  mostly 
their  own  dressmakers,  and,  owing  to  the  servant  diffi- 
culty in  Bermuda,  their  own  cooks  as  well;  they  had 
transformed  their  little  white-washed  houses  into  the 
most  inviting  little  dwellings,  and  in  spite  of  having 
to  do  a  great  part  of  their  own  housework,  they  al- 
ways managed  to  look  pretty  and  charming.  The 
average  wife  of  the  average  officer  of  a  Line  regiment 
is  a  wonderful  little  woman. 

The  supper-parties  in  the  married  officers'  quarters 
at  Prospect  Camp  were  the  cheeriest  entertainments 
I  have  ever  been  at.  Every  one  had  to  contribute 
something.  My  own  culinary  attainments  being  con- 
fined to  the  preparation  of  three  dishes,  I  was  com- 
pelled to  repeat  them  monotonously.  The  subalterns 
were  made  to  carry  the  dishes  from  the  kitchen,  and 
to  "wash-up"  afterwards,  yet  I  am  sure  that  the  aver- 
age London  hostess  would  have  envied  the  jollity, 
the  fun  and  high  spirits  that  made  those  informal 
supper-parties  so  delightful,  and  would  have  given 
anything  to  introduce  some  of  this  cheery  atmosphere 
into  her  own  decorous  and  extremely  dull  entertain- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  215 

ments,  where  the  guests  did  not  have  to  cook  their 
own  dinners. 

I  gave  a  dinner-party  at  an  hotel  to  eleven  people, 
all  officers  or  officers'  wives.  The  conversation  turned 
on  birthplaces,  and  the  answers  given  were  so  curious, 
that  I  wrote  them  all  down.  Not  only  were  all  my 
guests  soldiers  and  soldiers'  wives,  but  they  were 
nearly  all  the  sons  and  daughters  of  soldiers  as  well. 
One  major  had  been  born  at  Cape  Town;  his  very 
comely  wife  in  Barbados.  The  other  major  had 
been  born  at  Meerut  in  India,  his  wife  at  Quebec,  and 
her  unmarried  sister  in  Mauritius ;  and  so  it  was  with 
all  of  them.  Of  those  twelve  people  of  pure  British 
blood,  I  was  the  only  one  who  had  been  born  in  Eng- 
land or  in  Europe;  even  the  subaltern  had  been  born 
in  Hong-Kong.  I  do  not  thing  that  stay-at-homes 
quite  realise  the  existence  of  this  little  world  of  people 
journeying  from  end  to  end  of  the  earth  in  the  course 
of  their  duty,  and  taking  it  all  as  a  matter  of  course. 

I  regret  that  the  Imperial  West  India  Direct  Line 
should  now  be  defunct,  for  this  gave  a  monthly  direct 
service  between  Bristol  and  Bermuda,  and  I  can  con- 
ceive of  no  pleasanter  winter  quarters  for  those  de- 
sirous of  escaping  the  rigours  of  an  English  January 
and  February.  Ten  days  after  leaving  Bristol,  ten 
days  it  must  be  confessed  of  extremely  angry  seas, 
the  ship  dropped  her  anchor  in  Grassy  Bay,  and  the 
astonished  arrival  from  England  found  ripe  straw- 
berries, new  peas,  and  new  potatoes  awaiting  his  good 
pleasure.  No  visitor  could  fail  to  be  delighted  with 
the  pretty,  prosperous  little  island,  and  with  its  genial 


216  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

and  hospitable  inhabitants.  For  Americans,  too,  the 
place  was  a  godsend,  for  in  forty-eight  hours  they 
could  escape  from  the  extreme  and  fickle  climate  of 
New  York,  and  find  themselves  in  warm  sunshine, 
tempered,  it  is  true,  by  occasional  downpours,  for 
Nature,  realising  that  the  inhabitants  were  dependent 
on  the  rainfall  for  their  water  supply,  did  her  best  to 
avoid  any  shortage  of  this  necessity  of  life.  Cana- 
dians had  also  a  great  liking  for  the  islands,  for  not 
only  were  they  on  their  own  soil  there,  but  in  sixty 
hours  they  could  transport  themselves  from  the  ice 
and  snow  of  Montreal  and  Toronto  to  a  climate  where 
roses  and  geraniums  bloomed  at  Christmas,  and  where 
orange  and  lemon  trees  and  great  wine-coloured  drifts 
of  Bougainvillaea  mocked  at  the  futile  efforts  of  winter 
to  touch  them.  The  Bishop  of  Bermuda,  who  also 
included  Newfoundland  in  his  See,  declared  that 
climatically  his  diocese  was  absolutely  ideal,  for  he 
passed  the  six  winter  months  in  Bermuda  and  the  re- 
mainder of  the  year  in  Newfoundland,  thus  escaping 
alike  the  rigorous  winters  of  the  northern  island  and 
the  fierce  summer  heat  of  the  southern  one.  The 
Bishop  himself  was  a  Newfoundlander,  as  were  many 
of  the  Church  of  England  clergy  in  Bermuda.  A 
humorous  friend  of  mine,  a  sapper  in  charge  of  the 
"wireless,"  shared  to  the  full  my  liking  for  the  islands 
and  their  pleasant  inhabitants,  but  positively  detested 
Prospect  Camp  where  he  was  stationed.  Prospect, 
though  healthy  enough,  is  wind-swept,  very  dusty,  and 
quite  devoid  of  shade.  He  declared  that  the  well- 
known  hymn  should  be  altered,  and  ought  to  run: 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  217 

"What  though  the  Ocean  breezes 

Blow  o'er  Bermuda's  isle; 

Where  every  man  is  pleasing 

And  only  Prospect  vile." 

Few  people  seem  to  realise  that  Bermuda  is  a  first- 
class  fortress,  a  dockyard,  and  an  important  naval 
coaling-station.  A  glance  at  the  map  will  show  its 
strategic  importance.  Nature  has  made  it  almost 
inaccessible  with  barrier-reefs,  and  there  is  but  one 
narrow  and  difficult  entrance  off  St.  George's.  This 
entrance  is  jealously  guarded  by  a  heavy  battery  of 
12  in.  and  6  in.  guns,  and  the  ten-mile  long  ship- 
channel  inside  the  reefs  from  St.  George's  to  the 
Dockyard  is  very  difficult  and  complicated,  though  I 
imagine  that,  with  modern  guns,  a  ship  could  lie 
outside  the  reefs  and  shell  the  islands  to  pieces. 

The  first  time  that  I  was  in  Bermuda,  a  German 
Training  Squadron  arrived,  with  a  number  of  naval 
cadets  on  board,  and  announced  their  intention  of  re- 
maining ten  days.  The  German  officers  at  once  ex- 
hibited a  most  un-Teutonic  keenness  about  sea-fishing. 
The  Governor,  fully  alive  to  the  advantage  a  possibly 
hostile  power  might  reap  from  an  independent  survey 
and  charting  of  the  tortuous  and  difficult  ship-channel 
between  St.  George's  and  the  Dockyard,  at  once  held 
a  consultation  with  the  Senior  Naval  Officer,  in  the 
Admiral's  absence,  and,  as  a  result  of  this  consulta- 
tion, three  naval  petty  officers  were  detailed  to  show 
the  Germans  the  best  fishing-grounds.  At  the  same 
time  naval  patrol  boats  displayed  a  quite  unusual 
activity  inside  the  reefs.  Both  patrol  boats  and  petty 


218  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

officers  had  their  private  orders,  and  I  fancy  that  these 
steps  resulted  in  very  few  soundings  being  taken,  and 
in  the  ship-channel  remaining  uncharted  by  our  Ger- 
man visitors.  I  was  returning  myself,  after  dark, 
in  the  ferry-boat  plying  between  the  Dockyard  and 
Hamilton,  when  there  were  four  German  officers  on 
the  bridge.  Imagining  themselves  secure  in  the  gen- 
eral ignorance  of  their  language,  they  were  openly 
noting  the  position  of  the  leading  lights,  as  the  little 
steamer  threaded  her  way  through  the  smaller  islands 
and  "One  rock"  and  "Two  rock  passage,"  and  all 
these  observations  were,  I  imagine,  duly  entered  in 
their  pocket-books  after  landing.  In  conversation 
with  the  German  officers  I  was  much  struck  with  the 
essentially  false  ideas  that  they  had  with  regard  to 
the  position  of  the  motherland  and  her  dependencies. 
They  seemed  convinced  that  every  Dominion  and  de- 
pendency was  merely  waiting  for  the  first  favourable 
opportunity  to  declare  its  complete  independence,  and 
they  hardly  troubled  to  conceal  their  opinion  that 
Britain  was  hopelessly  decadent,  and  would  never 
be  able  to  wage  a  campaign  again.  Bermuda,  in  view 
of  its  wonderful  strategic  position,  had,  I  am  con- 
vinced, been  marked  down  as  a  future  German  posses- 
sion, when  they  would  have  endeavoured  to  make  a 
second  Heligoland  of  it. 

Nowhere  could  a  little  population  be  found  more 
loyal  to  the  motherland  than  in  Bermuda,  or  prouder 
of  its  common  heritage. 

A  friend  of  mine,  a  lady  who  had  never  left  the 
islands,  wrote  some  lines  which  I  thought  so  fine 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  219 

that  I  set  them  to  music.  Her  words,  though,  are  so 
much  hetter  than  my  setting,  that  I  will  quote  them 
in  full. 

THE  SONG  OF  THE  BERMUDIANS 
THE  KEEPERS  OF  THE  WESTERN  GATE 

Queen  of  the  Seas !  Thou  hast  given  us  the  Keys, 
Proudly  do  we  hold  them,  we  thy  Children  and  akin, 

Though  we  be  nor  rich  nor  great, 

We  will  guard  the  Western  Gate, 
And  our  lives  shall  pay  the  forfeit  ere  we  let  the  foeraan  in. 

Empty  are  our  hands,  for  we  have  nor  wealth  nor  lands, 
No  grain  or  gold  to  give  thee,  and  so  few  a  folk  are  we; 

Yet  in  very  will  and  deed, 

We  will  serve  thee  at  thy  need, 
And  keep  thine  ancient  fortalice  beyond  the  Western  Sea. 

The  sea  is  at  our  doors,  and  we  front  its  fretted  floors, 
Swept  by  every  wind  that  listeth,  ringed  with  reefs  from  rim  to 
rim, 

Though  we  may  not  break  its  bars, 

Yet  by  light  of  sun  or  stars 
Our  hearts  are  fain  for  England,  and  for  her  our  eyes  are  dim. 

Sweet  Mother,  ponder  this,  lest  thy  favour  we  should  miss; 
We,  the  loneliest  and  least  of  all  thy  peoples  of  the  sea. 

With  bared  heads  and  proud 

We  bless  thy  name  aloud, 
For  gift  of  lowly  service,  as  we  guard  the  gate  for  thee. 

Those  lines,  to  me,  have  a  fine  ring  about  them.  The 
words,  "In  very  will  and  deed,  We  will  serve  thee 
at  thy  need,"  were  not  a  mere  empty  boast,  as  the 
splendid  record  of  little  Bermuda  in  the  years  of 
trouble  from  1914  to  1918  shows,  when  almost  every 
man  of  military  age,  whether  white  or  coloured,  vol- 
untarily crossed  the  Atlantic  to  help  the  motherland 
in  her  need ;  so  let  us  wish  all  success  to  the  sun-kissed, 
cedar-clad  little  islands,  and  to  their  genial  inhabitants. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

The  demerits  of  the  West  Indies  classified — The  utter  ruin  of 
St.  Pierre  —  The  Empress  Josephine  —  A  transplanted 
brogue  —  Vampires  —  Lost  in  a  virgin  forest  —  Dictator- 
Presidents — Castro  and  Rosas — The  mentality  of  a  South 
American — "The  Liberator" — The  Basques  and  their  na- 
tional game — Love  of  English  people  for  foreign  words — 
Yellow  fever — Life  on  an  Argentine  estancia — How  cattle 
are  worked — The  lasso  and  the  "bolas" — Ostriches — 
Venomous  toads — The  youthful  rough-rider — His  methods 
— Fuel  difficulties — The  vast  plains — The  wonderful  bird- 
life. 

ANY  one  desirous  of  seeing  an  exceedingly  beautiful, 
and  comparatively  unknown,  corner  of  the  world, 
should  take  the  fortnightly  Inter-colonial  steamer 
from  Trinidad,  and  make  the  voyage  "up  the  islands." 
The  Lesser  Antilles  are  very  lovely,  but  there  is  some- 
thing rather  melancholy  about  them,  for  they  are 
obviously  decaying  in  prosperity;  the  white  planters 
are  abandoning  them,  and  as  the  coloured  people  take 
their  place,  externals  all  begin  to  assume  a  shabby, 
unkempt  appearance.  I  am  speaking  of  the  condi- 
tions anterior  to  1914;  the  great  rise  in  the  price  of 
sugar  since  then  may  have  resulted  in  a  back-wash  of 
prosperity  affecting  both  the  Windward  and  the  Lee- 
ward Islands. 

I  should  always  myself  classify  the  West  India 
islands  according  to  their  liability  to,  or  immunity 

from,  the  various  local  drawbacks.    Thus  Barbados, 

wo 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  221 

though  within  the  hurricane  zone,  is  outside  the  earth- 
quake zone,  and  is  free  from  poisonous  snakes.  Trini- 
dad, only  200  miles  away,  is  outside  the  hurricane  area, 
but  is  most  distinctly  inside  the  earthquake  zone,  is 
prolific  in  venomous  snakes  and  enjoys  the  further 
advantage  of  being  the  home  of  the  blood-sucking 
vampire  bat.  Jamaica  is  liable  to  both  hurricanes  and 
earthquakes,  but  has  no  poisonous  snakes.  St.  Vin- 
cent, St.  Lucia  and  Martinique  are  really  over-full 
of  possibilities,  for,  in  addition  to  a  liability  to  earth- 
quakes and  hurricanes,  they  each  possess  an  active 
volcano,  and  Martinique  and  St.  Lucia  are  the  habitat 
of  the  dreaded  and  deadly  Fer-de-Lance  snake. 

The  Administrator  of  St.  Vincent  had  been  good 
enough  to  ask  me  to  dinner  by  telegram.  The  steamer 
reached  St.  Vincent  after  dark,  and  it  was  a  curious 
experience  landing  on  an  unknown  island  in  a  tail- 
coat and  white  tie,  driving  for  two  miles,  and  then 
tumbling  into  a  dinner-party  of  sixteen  white  people, 
not  one  of  whom  one  had  ever  seen  before,  or  was 
ever  likely  to  meet  again.  It  was  as  though  one  had 
been  dropped  by  an  aeroplane  into  an  unknown  land, 
and  when  the  steamer  sailed  again  before  midnight, 
it  was  all  as  though  it  had  never  been.  The  orchids 
on  that  dinner-table  were  very  remarkable,  for  orchid- 
growing  was  the  Administrator's  hobby.  He  grafted 
his  orchids  on  to  orange  trees,  and  so  obtained  enor- 
mous growths,  yfe  measured  some  of  the  flower- 
sprays,  the  biggest  being  nine  feet  long.  As  they  were 
brown  and  yellow  Oncidiums,  they  were  more  curious 
than  beautiful. 


222  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

The  appalling  desolation  of  St.  Pierre,  in  the 
French  island  of  Martinique,  cannot  be  imagined  with- 
out having  been  seen.  Of  a  very  handsome  city  of 
40,000  inhabitants  there  is  absolutely  nothing  left  ex- 
cept one  gable  of  the  cathedral.  There  is  no  trace  of 
a  town  having  ever  existed  here,  for  the  poisonous 
manchineel  tree  has  spread  itself  over  the  ruins,  and 
it  is  difficult  to  realise  that  twenty  years  ago  the 
pride  of  the  French  West  Indies  stood  here.  The  rich 
merchants  and  planters  of  St.  Pierre  had  all  made 
their  homes  in  the  valley  of  the  little  river  Roxelana. 
After  the  sides  of  Mont  Pele  had  gaped  apart  and 
hurled  their  white-hot  whirlwind  of  fire  over  the 
doomed  town  on  that  fatal  May  8,  1902 — a  fiery 
whirlwind  which  calcined  every  human  being  and 
every  building  in  the  town  in  less  than  one  minute — 
molten  lava  poured  into  the  valley  of  the  Roxelana 
until  it  filled  it  up  entirely,  burying  houses,  gardens 
and  plantations  alike.  There  is  no  trace  even  of  a 
valley  now,  and  the  stream  makes  its  way  under- 
ground to  the  sea.  Napoleon  the  Great's  first  wife, 
Josephine  de  la  Pagerie,  was  a  native  of  Martinique 
and  retained  all  her  life  the  curious  indolence  of  the 
Creole.  Her  gross  extravagance  and  her  love  of  lux- 
ury may  also  have  been  due  to  her  Creole  blood.  Her 
first  husband,  of  course,  had  been  the  Vicomte  de 
Beauharnais,  and  her  daughter,  Hortense  de  Beau- 
harnais,  married  Napoleon's  brother,  Louis,  King  of 
Holland.  This  complicated  relationships,  for  Queen 
Hortense's  son,  Louis  Napoleon,  afterwards  Napo- 
leon III.,  was  thus  at  the  same  time  nephew  and  step- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  223 

grandson  of  Napoleon  I.  M.  Filon,  in  his  most  in- 
teresting study  of  the  Empress  Eugenie,  points  out 
that  Napoleon  III.  showed  his  Creole  blood  in  his 
constant  chilliness.  He  chose  as  his  private  apart- 
ments at  the  Tuileries  a  set  of  small  rooms  on  the 
ground  floor,  as  these  could  be  more  easily  heated  up 
to  the  temperature  he  liked.  According  to  M.  Filon, 
Napoleon  III.  shortened  his  life  by  persisting  in 
remaining  so  much  in  what  he  describes  as  "those  over- 
gilt, over-heated,  air-tight  little  boxes." 

The  well-known  greenhouse  climbing  plant  lapa- 
geria,  with  its  waxy  white  or  crimson  trumpets  of 
flowers,  owes  its  name  to  Josephine  de  la  Pagerie, 
for  on  its  first  introduction  into  France  it  was  called 
La  Pageria  in  her  honour,  though  with  the  English 
pronunciation  of  the  name  the  connection  is  not  at 
first  obvious. 

It  is  not  so  generally  known  that  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon,  as  Fran9oise  d'Aubigne,  spent  all  her  girlhood 
in  Martinique. 

The  coloured  women  of  Martinique  have  apparently 
absorbed,  thanks  to  their  two  hundred  years'  associa- 
tion with  the  French,  something  of  that  innate  good 
taste  which  seems  the  birthright  of  most  French  peo- 
ple, and  they  show  this  in  their  very  individual  and 
becoming  costumes.  The  Martinique  negress  is,  as  a 
rule,  a  handsome  bronze-coloured  creature,  and  she 
wears  a  full-skirted,  flowing  dress  of  flowered  chintz 
or  cretonne,  with  a  fichu  of  some  contrasting  colour 
over  her  breast.  She  hides  her  woolly  locks  under 
an  ample  turban  of  two  shades,  one  of  which  will 


224  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

exactly  match  her  fichu,  whilst  the  other  will  either 
correspond  to  or  contrast  with  the  colour  of  her  chintz 
dress,  thus  producing  what  the  French  term  "une 
gamine  de  couleur,"  most  pleasing  to  the  eye,  and  with 
never  a  false  note  in  it.  Beside  these  comely,  amply 
hreasted  bronze  statues,  the  British  West  Indian 
negress,  with  her  absurd  travesty  of  European  fash- 
ions, and  her  grotesque  hats,  cuts,  I  am  bound  to  say, 
a  very  poor  figure  indeed. 

The  flourishing  little  island  of  Montserrat  has  one 
peculiarity.  The  negroes  all  speak  with  the  strongest 
of  Irish  brogues.  Cromwell  deported  to  Montserrat 
many  of  the  "Malignants"  from  the  West  of  Ireland, 
who  acquired  negro  slaves  to  cultivate  their  sugar 
and  cotton.  These  negroes  naturally  learnt  English 
in  the  fashion  in  which  their  masters  spoke  it.  The 
white  men  have  gone;  the  brogue  remains.  I  was 
much  amused  on  going  ashore  in  the  Administrator's 
whaleboat,  he  being  an  old  acquaintance  from  the  Co. 
Tyrone,  to  hear  his  jet-black  coxswain  remark,  "  'Tis 
the  lee  side  I  will  be  going,  sorr,  the  way  your  Honour 
will  not  be  getting  wet,  for  them  back-seas  are  mighty 
throublesome."  This  in  Montserrat  was  unexpected. 

There  is  a  curious  uninhabited  rock  lying  amongst 
the  Virgin  Islands.  It  is  quite  square  and  box-like 
in  shape,  and  is  known  as  "The  Dead  Man's  Chest." 
Before  seeing  it  I  had  always  thought  that  the  eternal 
chant  of  the  old  pirate  at  the  "Admiral  Benbow," 
in  Treasure  Island: 

"Fifteen  men  on  the  Dead  Man's  Chest, 
Yo-ho-ho,  and  a  bottle  of  rum!" 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  225 

referred  literally  to  a  seaman's  chest,  though  reflec- 
tion might  have  shown  that  one  chest  would  afford 
rather  scanty  seating-ground  for  fifteen  men. 

At  Nevis,  the  curious  can  see  in  Fig  Tree  Church 
the  register  attesting  the  marriage  of  "Horatio  Nel- 
son, Captain  of  H.M.S.  Boreas,  to  Frances  Nisbet, 
widow,"  on  March  11,  1789.  William  IV.,  at  that 
time  Duke  of  Clarence,  was  Nelson's  best  man  on 
that  occasion. 

Nevis  possesses  powerful  hot  mineral  springs,  and 
a  hundred  years  ago  and  more  was  the  great  health 
resort  of  white  people  in  the  West  Indies.  Here 
the  planters  endeavoured  to  get  their  torpid  livers  into 
working  order  again,  and  the  local  boast  was  that 
for  every  pearl  necklace  and  pair  of  diamond  shoe- 
buckles  to  be  seen  at  the  English  Bath,  there  were 
three  to  be  seen  in  Nevis.  To  add  to  its  attractions 
it  was  asserted  that  the  drinking,  gambling,  and  duel- 
ling in  Nevis  left  Bath  completely  in  the  shade. 

Though  one  was  constantly  hearing  of  diminishing 
trade  in  the  Lesser  Antilles,  certain  questions  kept 
suggesting  themselves  to  me.  For  instance,  in  islands 
abounding  in  water  power,  why  ship  copra  in  bulk 
to  England  or  the  United  States,  instead  of  crushing 
it  locally  and  exporting  the  oil,  which  would  occupy 
one-tenth  of  the  cargo-space  ?  Why,  in  an  island  pro- 
ducing both  oranges  and  sugar,  ship  them  separately 
to  Europe  to  be  made  into  marmalade,  instead  of 
manufacturing  it  on  the  spot?  The  invariable  answer 
to  these  queries  was  "lack  of  capital" ;  no  one  seemed 


226  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

to  guess  that  lack  of  enterprise  might  be  a  contribu- 
tory cause  as  well. 

I  have  alluded  to  the  vampire  bat  of  Trinidad.  Six 
weeks  before  my  arrival  there,  the  Governor's  aide- 
de-camp  had  most  imprudently  slept  without  lowering 
his  mosquito  curtains.  He  awoke  to  find  himself 
drenched  in  blood,  for  a  vampire  bat  had  opened  a 
vein,  drunk  his  fill,  and  then  flown  off  leaving  the 
wound  open.  The  doctor  had  to  apply  the  actual 
cautery  to  stop  the  bleeding,  and  six  weeks  afterwards 
the  unfortunate  aide-de-camp  was  still  as  white  as  a 
sheet  of  paper  from  loss  of  blood.  At  Government 
House,  Port-of- Spain,  there  is  a  very  lofty  entrance- 
hall,  bright  with  electric  light.  The  vampires  con- 
stantly flew  in  here,  to  become  helpless  at  once  in 
the  glare  of  light,  when  they  could  be  easily  killed 
with  a  stick.  The  vampire  is  a  small,  sooty-black  bat 
with  a  perfectly  diabolical  little  face.  An  ordinary 
mosquito  net  is  quite  sufficient  protection  against  them, 
or,  to  persons  who  do  not  mind  a  light  in  their  room, 
a  lamp  burning  all  night  is  an  absolute  safeguard 
against  their  attacks.  Every  stable  in  Trinidad  has 
a  lighted  lamp  burning  all  night  in  it,  and  those 
who  can  aiford  them,  drop  wire-gauze  curtains  over 
their  horses'  stalls  as  a  protection  against  vampires. 

The  Trinidad  negro  being  naturally  an  indolent 
creature,  all  the  boatmen  and  cab-drivers  in  Port-of- 
Spain  are  Barbadians.  As  we  know,  the  Badians 
have  an  inordinate  opinion  of  themselves  and  of  their 
island.  Whilst  I  was  in  Trinidad,  General  Baden- 
Powell  came  there  in  the  course  of  his  world-tour 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  227 

inspection  of  Boy  Scouts.  On  the  day  of  General 
Baden-Powell's  arrival,  all  the  Badian  boatmen  and 
cab-drivers  struck  work,  and  the  vampire-bitten  aide- 
de-camp,  who  was  in  the  town,  met  serried  phalanxes 
of  dark  faces  hurrying  to  the  landing-stage.  On  ask-» 
ing  a  Badian  what  the  excitement  was  about,  the 
negro  answered  with  infinite  hauteur. 

"You  ask  me  dat,  sir  ?  You  not  know  dat  our  great 
countryman  General  Badian-Powell  arrive  to-day,  so 
we  all  go  welcome  him." 

Charles  Kingsley  in  At  Last  goes  into  rhapsodies 
over  the  "High  Woods"  of  Trinidad.  I  confess  that 
I  was  terribly  disappointed  in  them.  They  are  too 
trim  and  well-kept ;  the  Forestry  department  has  done 
its  work  too  well.  There  are  broad  green  rides  cut 
through  them,  reminiscent  of  covers  in  an  English 
park,  but  certainly  not  suggestive  of  a  virgin  forest. 
One  almost  expects  to  hear  the  beaters'  sticks  rattling 
in  them,  and  I  did  not  think  that  they  could  compare 
with  the  splendid  virgin  forests  of  Brazil. 

I  was  in  Brazil  just  thirty  years  ago  with  Patrick 
Lyon,  brother  of  the  present  Lord  Strathmore.  We 
were  staying  at  Petropolis,  and  Lyon,  fired  by  my 
accounts  of  these  virgin  forests,  declared  that  he  must 
see  one  for  himself.  He  had  heard  that  the  forests 
extended  to  within  three  miles  of  Petropolis,  and  at 
once  went  to  hire  two  horses  for  us  to  ride  out  there. 
There  were  no  horses  to  be  had  in  the  place,  but  so 
determined  was  Lyon  to  see  these  untrodden  wilds, 
that  he  insisted  on  our  doing  the  three  miles  on  foot, 
then  and  there.  It  was  the  height  of  the  Brazilian 


228  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

summer,  and  the  heat  was  something  appalling.  We 
struggled  over  three  miles  of  a  glaring  white  shadeless 
road,  grilled  alive  by  the  sun,  but  always  comforting 
ourselves  by  dwelling  on  the  cool  shades  awaiting  us 
at  the  end  of  our  journey.  At  length  we  reached  the 
forest,  and  wandered  into  a  green  twilight  under  the 
dense  canopy  of  leaves,  which  formed  an  unbroken 
roof  a  hundred  feet  over  our  heads.  With  "green 
twilight"  the  obvious  epithet  should  be  "cool";  that 
is  exactly  what  it  was  not,  for  if  the  green  canopy 
shut  out  the  sun,  it  also  shut  out  the  air,  and  the 
heat  in  that  natural  leafy  cathedral  was  absolutely 
overpowering.  We  wandered  on  and  on,  till  I  began 
to  grow  giddy  and  faint  with  the  heat.  I  asked  Lyon 
how  he  was  feeling,  and  he  owned  that  the  heat  had 
affected  him  too,  so  we  sat  down  on  a  rock  to  re- 
cuperate. 

"It  is  a  solemn  thought,"  observed  Lyon,  after  a 
long  silence,  "that  we  are  perhaps  the  first  human 
beings  to  have  set  foot  in  this  forest.  We  simply 
must  pull  ourselves  together,  for  it  might  be  months 
before  any  one  passed  here,  and  you  know  what 
that  means."  I  assented  gloomily,  as  I  formed  melan- 
choly mental  pictures  of  ourselves  as  two  mature 
Babes-in-the-Wood,  speculating  whether,  in  the  event 
of  our  demise  in  these  untrodden  wilds,  any  Brazilian 
birds,  brilliant  of  plumage  but  kindly  of  heart,  would 
cover  us  up  with  leaves.  These  great  forest  tracts 
were  producing  an  awe-inspiring  effect  on  us  as  we 
realised  our  precarious  position,  when  we  suddenly 
heard  Toot !  toot !  toot !  and  to  our  inexpressible  amaze- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  229 

ment  we  saw  a  tramcar  approaching  us  through  the 
trees.  The  car  came  within  twenty  feet  of  us,  for 
the  track  had  been  quite  hidden  by  some  rising  ground ; 
we  hailed  it,  and  returned  to  Petropolis  prosaically 
seated  on  the  front  bench  of  a  tramcar.  We  after- 
wards found  that  the  untrodden  wilds  of  our  virgin 
forest  were  traversed  by  a  regular  hourly  service  of 
tramcars ;  alas  for  vanished  illusions ! 

There  is  a  street  in  Port-of-Spain  which  used  to 
be  known  as  the  "Calle  de  los  Presidentes,"  or  Presi- 
dents' Street,  for  it  was  here  that  fugitive  Presidents 
of  Venezuela  were  wont  to  take  refuge  when  the 
political  atmosphere  of  that  republic  grew  uncom- 
fortable for  them.  Most  of  these  gentlemen  thought- 
fully brought  with  them  as  much  of  the  national  till 
as  they  were  able  to  lay  their  hands  on,  to  comfort 
them  in  their  exile.  Spanish- American  republics  seem 
to  produce  Dictator-Presidents  very  freely.  When  I 
was  in  Venezuela  in  1907  Cipriano  Castro  had  grasped 
supreme  power,  and  governed  the  country  as  an  auto- 
crat. Castro,  who  was  an  uneducated  half-caste,  ruled 
by  corruption  and  terror;  he  repudiated  all  the  na- 
tional obligations,  quarrelled  with  the  United  States 
and  with  every  European  Power,  and  disposed  of  his 
political  opponents  by  the  simple  expedient  of  plac- 
ing them  against  a  wall  with  a  file  of  soldiers  witH 
loaded  rifles  in  front  of  them.  For  eight  years  this 
ignorant,  bloodthirsty  savage  enjoyed  absolute  power, 
until  he  was  forced  in  1908  to  flee  to  Europe.  I  do 
not  know  whether  he  followed  the  national  custom  by 
taking  most  of  the  exchequer  with  him.  A  typical 


230  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

sample  of  Castro's  administrative  powers  was  to  be 
seen  at  La  Guayra,  the  wretched,  'poverty-stricken 
seaport  of  Caracas.  Dominating  the  squalid  little 
place  was  a  huge  and  imposing  fort  with  heavy  guns, 
over  which  the  gaudy  Venezuelan  tricolour  of  yellow, 
blue,  and  red  fluttered  bravely.  This  fort  was  an 
elaborate  sham,  built  of  coloured  plaster,  and  the 
guns  were  of  painted  wood  only ;  but  Castro  thought 
that  it  was  calculated  to  frighten  the  foreigner,  and 
it  possibly  flattered  the  national  vanity  as  well. 

A  most  remarkable  example  of  a  Dictator-Tyrant 
was  Juan  Rosas,  who,  for  seventeen  years,  from  1835 
to  1852,  ruled  the  Argentine  Republic  as  an  un- 
challenged despot.  Rosas  was  born  in  1793,  and  be- 
gan life  as  a  gaucho.  He  seized  supreme  power  in 
1835,  and  is  credited  with  having  put  twenty-five  thou- 
sand people  to  death.  The  "Nero  of  South  America" 
was  ably  backed-up  by  his  seconds-in-command,  Oribe 
and  Urquiza,  two  most  consummate  scoundrels. 
Whether  Rosas  "saw  red,"  as  others  since  his  day 
have  done,  or  whether  it  was  the  play  on  his  own 
name  which  pleased  him,  I  cannot  say,  but  he  had  a 
perfect  mania  for  the  colour  red.  He  dressed  all  his 
troops  in  scarlet  ponchos,  and  ordered  every  male  in- 
habitant of  Buenos  Ayres  who  wore  a  coat  at  all,  to 
wear  a  scarlet  waistcoat,  whilst  all  ladies  were  bidden 
to  wear  a  knot  of  scarlet  ribbon  and  to  carry  a  red 
fan.  In  the  Dictator's  own  house  at  Palermo  all 
the  carpets  and  stuffs  were  scarlet.  An  elderly  lady 
in  Buenos  Ayres,  who  remembered  Rosas'  dictator- 
ship perfectly,  showed  me  some  of  the  scarlet  fans, 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  231 

specially  made  in  Spain  for  the  Argentine  market 
after  Rosas  had  promulgated  his  edict.  My  friend  de- 
scribed to  me  how  Rosas  placed  several  of  his  rough 
police  at  the  doors  of  every  church,  and  any  lady  who 
did  not  exhibit  the  obligatory  red  bow  on  her  black 
dress  (in  Spanish-speaking  countries  the  women  al- 
ways go  to  Mass  in  black) ,  received  a  dab  of  pitch  on 
her  cheek,  on  to  which  the  policeman  clapped  a  rosette 
of  red  paper.  She  told  it  all  so  graphically  that  I 
could  almost  see  the  stream  of  frightened,  black-clad 
women  issuing  from  the  church,  whilst  their  husbands 
and  lovers  stood  expectantly  below  ( South  American 
men  rarely  enter  a  church),  every  man- jack  of  them 
with  a  scarlet  waistcoat,  like  a  flock  of  swarthy  robin 
redbreasts.  I  have  seen  some  of  these  waistcoats; 
the  young  bloods  wore  scarlet  silk,  the  older  men  red 
cloth.  Rosas,  like  a  mediaeval  monarch,  had  his  court 
fool  or  jester,  a  dwarf  known  as  Don  Eusebio.  Rosas 
dressed  him  in  scarlet  and  gave  him  the  rank  of  a 
general,  with  a  scarlet-clad  bodyguard,  and  woe  be- 
tide any  one  who  treated  the  Dictator's  fool  with 
scant  respect.  Rosas  was  undoubtedly  as  mad  as  Bed- 
lam, but  he  was  an  abominably  bloodthirsty  madman 
who  successfully  exterminated  all  his  opponents.  The 
Dictator  was  accessible  to  every  one  at  his  house  at 
Palermo,  and  the  marvel  is  that  he  managed  to  escape 
assassination.  His  enormities  became  so  intolerable 
that  in  1852  the  Brazilians  and  Uruguayans  invaded 
the  Argentine,  and  at  the  critical  moment  General 
Urquiza,  Rosas'  trusted  second-in-command,  be- 


232  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

trayed  him  and  went  over  to  the  enemy,  so  the  Dic- 
tator's power  was  broken. 

Rosas  took  refuge  in  the  British  Legation,  and  for 
some  reason  which  I  have  never  fathomed,  he  was 
shipped  to  England  on  H.M.S.  Locust.  He  settled 
down  at  Swaythling  near  Southampton,  where  he 
died  in  1877  after  twenty-five  years  peaceful  resi- 
dence. He  was  a  peculiarly  bloodthirsty  scoundrel. 

Some  of  these  Spanish- American  dictators  have 
been  beneficent  despots,  such  as  Jose  Francia,  who, 
upon  Paraguay  proclaiming  her  independence  in 
1811,  got  elected  President,  and  soon  afterwards  man- 
aged to  secure  his  nomination  as  Dictator  for  life. 
He  ruled  Paraguay  autocratically  but  well  until  his 
death  in  1840,  and  the  country  prospered  under  him. 
Under  the  iron  rule  of  Porfirio  Diaz,  from  1877  to 
1911,  Mexico  enjoyed  the  only  period  of  comparative 
calm  that  turbulent  country  has  known  in  recent  years, 
and  made  continued  economic  progress. 

I  think  that  a  Latin- American's  only  abstract  idea 
of  government  is  a  despotic  one.  They  do  not  trouble 
much  about  the  substance  as  long  as  they  have  the 
shadow,  and  provided  that  the  national  arms  display 
prominently  a  "Cap  of  Liberty,"  and  mottoes  of 
"Libertad  y  Progreso"  are  sufficiently  flaunted  about, 
he  does  not  bother  much  about  the  absence  of  such 
trifles  as  trial  by  jury,  or  worry  his  head  over  the 
venality  and  tyranny  of  officials,  the  "faking"  of  elec- 
tions, or  the  disregard  of  the  President  of  the  day 
for  the  constitutional  limitations  imposed  upon  his 
office.  Do  not  the  national  arms  and  motto  proclaim 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  233 

that  his  country  stands  in  the  van  of  Liberty  and 
Progress,  and  what  more  could  any  one  want?  Some 
of  the  coats-of-arms  of  Spanish-American  republics 
and  states  would  give  an  official  of  the  College  of 
Arms  an  apoplectic  fit,  for  "colour"  is  unblushingly 
displayed  on  "colour"  and  "metal"  upon  "metal"  in 
defiance  of  every  recognised  rule  of  heraldry. 

The  first  time  that  I  was  in  Buenos  Ayres  a  very 
pleasant  young  English  civil  engineer  begged  me  to 
visit  the  family  with  whom  he  was  boarding,  assuring 
me  that  I  should  find  the  most  amusing  nest  of  cranks 
there.  These  people  had  come  originally  from  the 
Pacific  Coast,  I  cannot  recall  whether  from  Bolivia 
or  Ecuador.  As  their  revolutionary  tendencies  and 
their  constant  efforts  to  overthrow  the  Government 
had  rendered  their  native  country  too  hot  to  hold  them, 
they  had  drifted  through  Peru  to  Chili,  and  had 
wandered  across  the  continent  to  Buenos  Ayres, 
where  the  details  connected  with  the  running  of  a 
boarding-house  had  left  them  with  but  little  time  for 
putting  their  subversive  tendencies  into  practice. 
Amongst  their  paying  guests  was  an  elderly  man  from 
the  country  of  their  origin,  who  twenty-five  years 
earlier  had  so  disapproved  of  the  particular  President 
elected  to  rule  his  native  land,  that  he  had  shown  his 
resentment  by  attempting  to  assassinate  him.  Being, 
however,  but  an  indifferent  shot  with  a  revolver,  he 
had  merely  wounded  the  President  in  the  arm.  He 
had  somehow  managed  to  escape  from  Bolivia,  or 
Ecuador,  and  ultimately  made  his  way  to  Buenos 
Ayres,  where  he  was  warmly  welcomed  in  revolution- 


234  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

ary  circles;  and  his  defective  marksmanship  being 
overlooked,  the  will  was  taken  for  the  deed,  and  he 
was  always  alluded  to  as  "El  Libertador,"  or  "The 
Liberator."  I  accompanied  the  young  engineer  to 
his  boarding-house  one  evening,  where  I  met  the  most 
extraordinary  collection  of  people.  Every  one  was 
talking  at  once,  and  all  of  them  at  the  very  top  of 
their  voices,  so  it  was  impossible  to  follow  what  was 
being  said,  but  I  have  no  doubt  that  their  opinions 
were  all  sufficiently  "enlightened"  and  "advanced." 
"The  Liberator"  sat  apart  in  an  arm-chair,  his  pa- 
triarchal white  beard  streaming  over  his  chest,  and 
was  treated  with  immense  deference  by  every  one 
present.  At  intervals  during  the  evening  glasses  of 
Guinness'  bottled  stout  were  offered  to  the  Liberator 
(and  to  no  one  else),  this  being  a  beverage  of  which 
most  South  Americans  are  inordinately  fond.  I  was 
duly  introduced  to  the  Liberator,  who  received  my 
advances  with  affability  tempered  with  haughtiness. 
I  flattered  myself  that  I  had  made  a  very  favourable 
impression  on  him,  but  I  learnt  afterwards  that  the 
old  gentleman  was  deeply  offended  with  me,  for,  on 
being  introduced  to  him,  I  had  assured  him  that  it 
was  a  pleasure  to  meet  "so  distinguished  a  man"  (un 
Jiombre  tan  distinguido),  whereas  I  should  have  said 
"so  distinguished  a  gentleman"  (un  caballero  tan  dis- 
tinguido) ,  a  curious  point  for  so  ardent  a  democrat  to 
boggle  over. 

No  stranger  in  Buenos  Ayres  should  omit  a  visit 
to  the  Plaza  Eiiskara  on  a  Sunday. 

The  Plaza  Eiiskara  is  the  great  court  where  the 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  235 

Basques  play  their  national  game  of  "pelota." 
Eiiskara  is  the  term  used  by  the  Basques  themselves 
for  their  mysterious  language,  a  language  with  no 
affinity  to  any  European  tongue,  and  so  difficult  that 
it  is  popularly  supposed  that  the  Devil,  after  spend- 
ing seven  fruitless  years  in  endeavouring  to  master  it, 
gave  up  the  attempt  in  despair.  "Pelota"  is  the  father 
of  racquets  and  fives,  and  is  an  immemorially  old 
game,  going  back,  it  is  said,  to  the  times  of  the  Ro- 
mans. Instead  of  using  a  racquet,  it  is  played  with  a 
curved  wicker  basket  strapped  on  to  the  right  wrist. 
This  basket  is  not  unlike  in  shape  to  those  wicker-work 
covers  which  in  pre-taxi  days  were  placed  by  London 
hotel  porters  over  the  wheels  of  hansom-cabs  to  pro- 
tect ladies'  dresses  in  getting  in  or  out  of  them.  When 
a  back-handed  stroke  is  necessary,  the  player  grasps 
his  right  wrist  with  his  left  hand,  using  his  wicker- 
encased  right  hand  as  a  racquet.  The  court  is  nearly 
three  times  the  length  of  a  racquet-court,  and  is  al- 
ways open  to  the  air.  There  is  a  back  wall  and  a 
wall  on  the  left-hand  side ;  the  other  two  sides  are  open 
and  filled  with  spectators.  The  players  are  marvel- 
lously adroit,  and  get  up  balls  which  seem  quite  im- 
possible to  return ;  they  are  all  professionals,  for  the 
game  is  so  difficult  that  it  must  be  learnt  in  early 
boyhood.  It  is  scored  like  racquets  up  to  fifteen  points, 
one  side  invariably  wearing  blue  "berets"  and  sashes, 
the  other  red.  Large  red  and  blue  dials  mark  the 
points  on  the  end  wall  as  they  are  scored. 

On  Sundays  and  holidays  the  Plaza  Eiiskara  is  a 
wonderful  sight,  with  its  thousands  of  spectators,  all 


236  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

worked  up  to  a  pitch  of  intense  excitement.  The 
betting  is  tremendous,  and  fat  wads  of  dollar  bills 
are  produced  from  the  shabbiest  of  coats,  whose  own- 
ers one  would  hardly  associate  with  such  an  amount 
of  portable  wealth.  The  three  umpires  sit  together 
on  a  sort  of  rostrum,  each  one  crowned  with  the  na- 
tional Basque  "beret."  Points  are  being  continually 
referred  to  their  decision,  amidst  the  shouts  and  yells 
of  the  excited  partisans.  Every  time  the  three  um- 
pires stand  up,  remove  their  berets,  and  make  low 
bows  to  each  other ;  they  then  confer  in  whispers,  and 
having  reached  a  decision,  they  again  stand  up  bare- 
headed, repeat  their  bows,  and  then  announce  their 
verdict  to  the  public.  Pelota  is  certainly  a  most  in- 
teresting game  to  watch,  owing  to  the  uncanny  skill  of 
the  players.  Invariably  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon 
there  is  one  match  in  which  the  little  apprentices  take 
part,  either  with  their  masters  as  partners,  or  en- 
tirely amongst  themselves. 

I  have  used  the  Spanish  word  "pelota,"  but  it 
merely  means  "ball,"  just  as  the  Russian  word 
"soviet"  means  nothing  in  the  world  but  "council." 
English  people  who  refuse  to  take  the  trouble  to  learn 
any  foreign  language,  seem  to  love  using  these  words ; 
they  have  all  the  glamour  of  the  unfamiliar  and  un- 
known about  them.  Personally,  it  always  seemed  to 
me  very  foolish  using  the  term  "Kaiser"  to  describe 
the  ex-Emperor  William.  Certainly  any  dictionary 
will  tell  one  that  Kaiser  is  the  German  equivalent  for 
Emperor,  but  as  we  happen  to  speak  English  I  fail 
to  see  why  we  should  use  the  German  term.  Equally, 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  237 

Konig  is  the  German  for  King,  and  yet  I  never  recol- 
lect any  one  alluding  to  the  Konig  of  Saxony.  Some 
people  seem  to  imagine  that  the  title  "Kaiser"  was 
a  personal  attribute  of  William  of  Hohenzollern ;  it 
was  nothing  of  the  sort.  Should  any  one  Ijave  been 
entitled  to  the  term,  it  would  have  been  the  Hapsburg 
Emperor,  the  lineal  descendant  of  the  "Heiliger 
Romischer  Kaiser,"  and  yet  one  used  to  read  such 
ridiculous  headings  as  "Kaiser  meets  Austrian  Em- 
peror." What  did  the  writers  of  this  imagine  that 
Franz- Josef  was  called  by  his  subjects?  The  mean- 
ingless practice  only  originated  in  England  with  Wil- 
liam II.'s  accession;  it  was  unheard  of  before.  If 
English  people  had  any  idea  that  "Rey"  was  the  Span- 
ish for  King,  I  am  sure  that  on  King  Alfonso's  next 
visit  to  England  we  should  see  flaring  headlines  an- 
nouncing the  "Arrival  of  the  Rey  in  London,"  and 
in  the  extraordinarily  unlikely  event  of  the  Queen  of 
Sweden  ever  wishing  to  pay  a  visit  to  this  country,  any 
one  with  a  Swedish  dictionary  could  really  compose  a 
brilliant  headline,  "The  Drottning  drives  despond- 
ently down  Downing  Street,"  and  I  confess  that 
neither  of  them  seem  one  whit  more  foolish  than  for 
English-speaking  people  to  use  the  term  Kaiser.  The 
label  may  be  a  convenient  one,  but  it  is  inaccurate, 
for  there  was  not  one  Kaiser  but  two. 

The  familiar,  when  wrapped  in  all  the  majesty  of 
a  foreign  tongue,  can  be  very  imposing.  Some  little 
time  back  a  brother  of  mine  laid  out  a  new  rock- 
garden  at  his  house  in  the  country.  The  next  year 
a  neighbour  wrote  saying  that  he  would  be  very  grate- 


238  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

ful  should  my  brother  be  able  to  supply  him  with  any 
of  his  superfluous  rock-plants.  My  brother  answered, 
regretting  his  inability  to  accede  to  this  request,  as, 
owing  to  the  dry  spring,  his  rock-garden  had  failed 
absolutely,  in  fact  the  only  growth  visible  in  it  con- 
sisted of  several  hundred  specimens  of  the  showy  yel- 
low blooms  of  the  "Leo  Elegans."  Much  impressed 
with  this  sonorous  appellation,  his  correspondent 
begged  for  a  few  roots  of  "Leo  Elegans."  My 
brother,  in  his  reply,  pointed  out  that  the  common 
dandelion  was  hardly  a  sufficient  rarity  to  warrant 
its  being  transplanted. 

I  went  out  a  second  time  to  the  Argentine  Republic 
with  Patrick  Lyon,  to  whom  I  have  already  alluded, 
in  order  to  place  a  young  relative  of  his  as  premium- 
pupil  on  an  English-owned  ranche,  or  estancia,  as  it 
is  locally  called.  We  had  an  extremely  unpleasant 
voyage  out,  for  at  Rio  Janeiro  we  were  unfortunate 
enough  to  get  yellow  fever  into  the  ship,  and  we  had 
five  deaths  on  board.  I  myself  was  attacked  by  the 
fever,  but  in  its  very  mildest  form,  and  I  was  the 
only  one  to  recover ;  all  the  other  victims  of  the  yellow 
scourge  died,  and  I  attribute  my  own  escape  to  the 
heroic  remedy  administered  to  me  with  my  own  con- 
sent by  the  ship's  doctor.  Although  Buenos  Ayres  is 
quite  out  of  the  yellow-fever  zone,  the  disease  has 
occasionally  been  brought  there  from  Brazil,  and  to 
Argentines  the  words  "yellow  fever"  are  words  of 
terror,  for  in  the  early  "seventies"  the  population  of 
Buenos  Ayres  was  more  than  decimated  by  a  fearful 
epidemic  of  the  scourge.  Our  ship  was  at  once 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  239 

ordered  back  to  Brazil,  and  was  not  allowed  to  dis- 
charge one  single  ounce  of  her  cargo,  which  must 
have  entailed  a  very  heavy  financial  loss  on  the  R.  M^ 
S.  P.  Company.  We  unfortunate  passengers  had  to 
undergo  twenty-one  days  rigorous  quarantine,  during 
which  we  were  allowed  no  communication  whatever 
with  the  outside  world,  and  were  in  addition  mulcted 
of  the  exorbitant  sum  of  £3  a  day  for  very  indifferent 
board  and  accommodation. 

Having  reached  the  estancia  and  placed  our  pupil 
on  it,  we  liked  the  place  so  well  that  we  made  ar- 
rangements to  stay  there  for  six  weeks  at  least,  thus 
getting  a  very  good  idea  of  its  daily  life.  The  province 
of  Buenos  Ayres  is  one  great  featureless,  treeless, 
dead-flat  plain,  and  being  all  an  alluvial  deposit,  it 
contains  neither  a  pebble  in  the  soil  nor  a  single  spring 
of  water.  Water  is  found  everywhere  at  a  depth 
of  six  or  seven  feet,  and  this  great  level  extends  for 
a  thousand  miles.  Where  its  undoubted  fascination 
comes  in  is  hard  to  say,  yet  I  defy  any  one  not  to  re- 
spond to  it.  It  is  probably  due  to  the  sense  of  limit- 
less space,  and  to  a  feeling  of  immense  freedom,  the 
latter  being  physical  and  not  political.  The  only  in- 
digenous tree  is  the  ombu,  and  the  ombu  makes  itself 
conspicuous  by  its  rarity.  Nature  must  have  fash- 
ioned this  tree  with  her  tongue  in  her  cheek,  for  the 
wood  is  a  mere  pith,  and  a  walking-stick  can  be  driven 
right  into  the  tree.  Not  only  is  the  wood  useless  as 
timber,  but  it  is  equally  valueless  as  fuel,  for  the 
pith  rots  before  it  can  be  dried.  The  leaves  are  poison- 
ous, and  in  spite  of  its  being  mere  pith,  it  is  one  of 


240  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

the  slowest-growing  trees  known,  so  that,  take  it  all 
round,  the  solitary  indigenous  tree  of  Buenos  Ayres 
is  about  the  most  useless  arboreal  product  that  could 
be  imagined.  The  ombu  is  a  handsome  tree  to  the 
eye,  not  unlike  an  English  walnut  in  its  habit  of 
growth,  and  it  has  the  one  merit  of  being  a  splendid 
shade-tree.  During  the  last  forty  years,  poplars, 
willows  and  eucalyptus  have  been  lavishly  planted 
round  the  estancia  houses,  so  any  green  or  dusky 
patch  of  trees  breaking  the  bare  expanse  of  dun- 
coloured  plain  is  an  unfailing  sign  of  human  habita- 
tion. 

The  manager  and  the  premium-pupils  on  our  es- 
tancia all  breakfasted  before  six,  and  then  went  out 
to  the  horse-corral  to  catch  their  horses  for  the  day's 
work.  They  were  obliging  enough  to  catch  horses, 
tod,  for  myself  and  Lyon,  which  we  duly  found  tied  up 
to  a  tree  when  we  made  our  later  appearance.  Let 
us  suppose  an  order  for  fifty  bullocks  to  have  come 
from  Buenos  Ayres.  The  manager  with  the  three 
pupils  and  some  ten  mounted  gauchos  would  ride  off 
to  the  selected  enclosure,  and  run  his  eye  over  the 
"mob"  of  cattle.  Having  selected  six  beasts,  he  would 
point  them  out  to  the  gauchos,  and  then  pick  out  two 
for  himself  and  his  younger  brother.  Shaking  his 
reins,  and  calling  out  "Ico!  Ico!"  to  his  horse,  he 
would  ride  up  to  the  doomed  beast,  and  endeavour 
to  cut  him  out  from  the  herd.  The  horse,  who  under- 
stood and  enjoyed  the  game  as  well  as  the  man  on  his 
back,  once  he  had  distinguished  the  bullock  they  were 
riding  down,  needed  no  stimulant  of  whip,  but  would 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  241 

follow  him  of  his  own  accord,  twisting  and  doubling 
like  a  retriever  after  a  wounded  hare,  or  a  terrier 
after  a  rat.  Once  the  animal  was  cut  out  of  the  herd, 
the  manager  would  uncoil  his  lasso,  one  end  of  which 
was  made  fast  to  the  cinch-ring  of  his  girths,  and  out 
flew  the  looped  coil  of  rope  with  unerring  straightness, 
catching  the  bullock  round  the  horns.  The  intelli- 
gent horse,  having  played  the  game  many  times  be- 
fore, steadied  himself  for  the  shock  which  experience 
had  taught  him  to  expect  when  he  would  feel  the 
whole  weight  of  the  galloping  bullock  suddenly  ar- 
rested in  his  rush  for  freedom  tugging  at  his  cinch- 
ring.  The  gauchos  had  also  secured  their  beasts  in 
the  same  way,  and  the  process  was  continued  until  the 
fifty  bullocks  had  been  securely  corralled,  blissfully 
unconscious  that  this  was  the  first  stage  of  their  ulti- 
mate transformation  into  roast  beef,  or  filets  de  bceuf 
a  la  Bordelcdse.  Though  Lyon  and  I  never  attempted 
to  use  the  lasso,  we  often  joined  in  riding  a  beast 
down,  and  the  horses,  after  they  had  once  identified 
the  particular  beast  they  were  to  follow,  turned  and 
twisted  with  such  unexpected  suddenness  that  they 
nearly  shot  us  both  out  of  the  saddle  a  dozen  times. 
None  of  the  pupils  were  yet  able  to  use  the  lasso  with 
certainty,  though  they  spent  hours  in  practising  at 
a  row  of  bullocks'  skulls  in  the  corral.  In  time  a 
foreigner  can  learn  to  throw  the  lasso  with  all  the  skill 
of  a  born  Argentine,  but  the  use  of  the  "bolas"  is  an 
art  that  must  be  acquired  in  childhood.  I  used  to  see 
some  of  the  gauchos'  children,  little  fellows  of  five  or 
six,  practising  on  the  fowls  with  miniature  toy  bolas 


242  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

made  of  string,  and  they  usually  hit  their  mark.  The 
bolas  consist  of  pieces  of  raw  hide  shaped  like  the 
letter  Y ;  at  the  extremities  are  two  heavy  lead  balls, 
whilst  at  the  base  of  the  Y  is  a  wooden  ball  which  is 
held  in  the  hand.  The  operator  whirls  the  bolas  round 
his  head,  and  sends  them  flying  at  the  objective  with 
unfailing  certainty,  and  the  animal  "emboladoed" 
drops  as  though  shot  through  the  head.  I  have  seen 
these  used  on  "outside  camps,"  but  on  a  well-managed 
estancia,  such  as  Espartillar,  the  use  of  the  bolas  is 
strictly  prohibited,  since  it  tends  to  break  the  animal's 
leg.  The  only  time  I  ever  saw  them  employed  there, 
was  against  a  peculiarly  aggressive  male  ostrich,  who 
attacked  all  intruders  into  his  particular  domain  with 
the  utmost  ferocity.  The  bird  fell  like  a  dead  thing, 
and  he  assumed  a  very  chastened  demeanour  after 
this  lesson.  The  South  American  ostrich,  the  Rhea, 
though  smaller  and  less  dangerous  than  his  big 
African  cousin,  can  be  most  pugnacious  when  he  is 
rearing  a  family  of  young  chicks.  I  advisedly  say 
"he,"  for  the  hen  ostrich,  once  she  has  hatched  her 
eggs,  considers  all  her  domestic  obligations  fulfilled, 
and  disappears  to  have  a  good  gossip  with  her  lady 
friends,  leaving  to  her  husband  the  task  of  attending 
to  the  young  brood.  The  male  bird  is  really  danger- 
ous at  this  time,  for  his  forward  kick  is  terrifically 
powerful.  The  ostrich  can  run  faster  than  any  horse, 
but  it  is  quite  easy  to  circumvent  any  charging  bird. 
All  that  is  necessary  is  to  turn  one's  horse  quickly  at 
right  angles;  the  ostrich  has  such  way  on  him  that 
he  is  unable  to  pull  up,  and  goes  tearing  on  a  hundred 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  24a 

yards  beyond  his  objective  before  he  can  change  his 
direction.  This  manoeuvre  repeated  two  or  three 
times  leaves  the  bird  discomfited;  as  they  would  say 
in  Ireland,  "You  have  him  beat."  I  confess  that  I 
have  never  seen  an  ostrich  bury  his  head  in  the  sand 
to  blind  himself  to  any  impending  danger,  as  he  is 
traditionally  supposed  to  do;  I  fancy  that  this  is  a 
libel  on  a  fairly  sagacious  bird,  and  that  in  reality 
the  practice  is  entirely  confined  to  politicians. 

The  Argentine  Republic  is  peculiar  in  possessing 
a  venomous  toad,  equipped  like  a  snake  with  regular 
poison-glands  and  fangs.  He  is  known  in  the  ver- 
nacular as  escuerzo,  and  is  rather  a  handsome  creature, 
wearing  a  green  black-striped  coat.  I  am  told  by 
learned  people  that  he  is  not  a  true  toad,  that  his 
proper  name  is  Ceratophrys  ornata,  and  that  he  is  a 
cannibal,  feeding  on  harmless  frogs  and  toads  whfch 
he  kills  with  his  poison-fangs.  There  was  a  plenti- 
ful supply  of  these  creatures  at  Espartillar,  and  the 
pupils,  when  they  found  an  escuerzo,  loved  to  tease 
him  with  a  stick.  He  is  probably  the  worst-tempered 
and  most  irritable  batrachian  known,  and  when 
prodded  with  a  stick  would  puff  himself  out,  and  work 
himself  into  a  hideous  passion.  Every  one  went  about 
high-booted,  and  possibly  his  fangs  were  not  powerful 
enough  to  penetrate  a  boot,  but,  anyhow,  he  never 
made  the  attempt;  he  tried  to  snap  at  the  hands  in- 
stead, and  as  he  could  only  jump  up  a  foot  or  so,  he 
continued  making  a  series  of  abortive  little  leaps, 
each  futile  attempt  at  reaching  his  aggressor's  hands 
adding  to  the  creature's  insane  rage.  When  the 


244  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

escuerzo  was  beside  himself  with  fury,  the  pupil  would 
dip  his  stick  into  the  oily  residue  of  his  pipe,  and  hold 
it  out  to  the  toad,  who  would  fasten  on  to  it  like 
a  mad  creature,  only  to  die  in  a  few  seconds  of  the 
nicotine. 

The  only  other  venomous  reptile  was  the  Vibora 
de  la  Cruz,,  the  "Viper  with  the  Cross,"  much  dreaded 
by  the  gauchos. 

It  is  an  interesting  sight  seeing  wild  young  horses 
being  broken-in,  and  receiving  their  first  instruction 
in  the  service  of  man.  The  rough-rider  at  Espartillar 
was  a  younger  brother  of  the  manager's,  a  short, 
sturdy,  round-faced,  grinning  Cornish  lad  of  eighteen, 
a  youth  of  large  appetite,  but  of  few  words,  uni- 
versally known  as  "The  Joven,"  which  merely  means 
"the  lad."  "Joven,"  by  the  way,  is  pronounced 
"Hoven,"  with  a  slight  guttural  sound  before  the 
"H."  The  Joven,  having  met  with  no  serious  acci- 
dents during  the  two  years  he  had  officiated  as  rough- 
rider,  had  kept  his  nerve,  and  was  still  young  enough 
to  enjoy  his  hazardous  duties  most  thoroughly. 

He  always  had  a  large  gallery  of  spectators,  for 
every  one  on  the  estancia  who  could  manage  it  trooped 
to  the  corral  to  criticise  and  to  pass  judgment.  The 
sun-browned  Joven,  who  preferred  riding  without 
stirrups,  would  appear,  stripped  to  his  drawers  and 
vest,  shod  with  canvas  alpargates,  with  a  revenque, 
or  short  raw-hide  whip,  in  his  hand.  A  young  horse, 
who  had  hitherto  run  wild,  would  be  let  in  and  las- 
soed, with  a  second  lasso  thrown  over  his  hind  legs. 
Before  tightening  the  lassoes  the  men  threw  a  recado, 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  245 

or  soft  leather  saddle  on  him,  the  Joven  tugging  at  the 
string-girths  until  the  unfortunate  grass-fed  animal 
looked  like  a  wasp.  The  lassoes  were  tautened,  and 
the  youngster  thrown  over  on  his  side.  The  Joven, 
grinning  cheerfully,  then  forced  a  thong  of  raw  hide 
into  his  unwilling  pupil's  mouth,  whilst  the  young 
horse,  half-mad  with  terror,  rolled  his  eyes  impo- 
tently.  The  Joven,  standing  astride  over  the  fallen 
animal,  half -dancing  on  his  toes  in  his  canvas  shoes, 
would  shout  to  the  men  to  slacken  the  heel-rope,  and 
then  to  let  go  the  head-rope.  As  the  terrified  animal 
struggled  to  his  feet,  the  Joven  slipped  nimbly  on  to 
the  recado.  Then  came  a  brief  pause,  as  the  horse 
puzzled  over  the  unaccustomed  weight  on  his  back, 
and  those  abominable  girths  that  were  cutting  him  in 
two,  till,  with  his  head  between  his  knees,  and  his  back 
arched  like  a  bow,  up  he  went  vertically  into  the  air, 
landing  on  all  four  feet.  That  irksome  weight  was 
still  there,  and  he  had  received  a  sharp  cut  with  some 
unknown  instrument,  but  it  might  be  worth  while 
trying  it  again.  So  up  he  went  a  second  time,  the 
Joven  grinning  from  ear  to  ear,  but  sitting  like  a 
rock,  then,  as  it  was  as  well  to  teach  a  young  horse 
that  bucking  entailed  punishment,  the  revenque  de- 
scended smartly  two  or  three  times,  and  a  revenque 
hurts.  The  puzzled  youngster  did  not  like  it,  and 
thought  that  he  would  try  rolling  for  a  change.  The 
Joven  slipped  off  with  the  dexterity  of  an  acrobat, 
and  dancing  about  on  his  toes,  chose  his  moment,  and 
was  again  on  the  horse's  back  as  he  rose.  Then  came 
a  real  contest  and  trial  of  skill  between  the  four-legged 


246  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

and  two-legged  youngsters,  as  the  horse  began  kick- 
ing furiously,  and  then  reared,  but  do  what  he  would 
that  tiresome  weight  was  still  on  his  back,  and  there 
was  an  unaccustomed  pressure  on  his  sides.  The 
Joven,  his  sun-baked  round  face  wreathed  in  grins, 
as  though  he  were  having  the  time  of  his  life,  was  now 
using  his  revenque  in  earnest,  and  the  young  horse 
decided  that  he  would  prefer  to  try  a  gallop  at  full 
speed.  Off  he  went  like  an  arrow  from  a  bow,  the 
Joven  dexterously  guiding  him  through  the  entrance 
to  the  corral,  partly  with  the  thong  of  raw  hide,  in  part 
with  light  strokes  of  the  revenque  on  the  side  of  the 
head,  and  they  disappeared  in  a  dense  cloud  of  dust 
over  the  limitless  "camp."  A  quarter  of  an  hour 
later  they  reappeared,  the  horse  cantering  quietly, 
and  the  boy,  still  grinning  like  a  Cheshire  cat,  sitting 
quite  loosely,  with  his  legs  dangling,  as  though  he  were 
in  an  arm-chair.  The  Joven  slid  to  the  ground,  and 
commenced  talking  to  the  horse  in  Spanish,  as  he 
stroked  his  head.  "Pingo!  Pingo!"  he  cried,  as  he 
stroked  him,  the  word  Pingo  being  supposed  in  the 
Argentine,  for  some  unknown  reason,  to  exercise  a 
magically  soothing  influence  over  a  horse,  and  then, 
removing  the  raw-hide  thong  from  the  youngster's 
mouth,  he  unsaddled  him  and  turned  him  loose  with 
a  resounding  smack  on  his  quarters,  leaving  him  to 
meditate  on  the  awful  things  that  may  befall  a  young 
horse  when  he  attempts  to  misbehave.  The  light- 
hearted  Joven,  dripping  with  perspiration,  wiped  the 
sweat  from  his  eyes,  and,  with  unabated  cheerfulness, 
took  stock  of  the  second  animal  he  was  to  school,  for 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  247 

he  was  to  give  three  lessons  that  morning.  When 
they  were  over,  the  youth's  own  mother  would  not 
have  known  him,  so  caked  with  dust  and  perspiration 
was  he.  He  made  his  way  to  the  swimming-bath,  still 
cheerful  and  smiling,  determined  not  to  miss  the  mid- 
day meal  by  one  second,  for,  like  all  the  heroines  of 
Mr.  E.  F.  Benson's  novels,  the  eighteen-year-old 
Joven  was  afflicted  with  a  perpetual  voracious  hunger. 
When  I  complimented  him  at  dinner  on  his  very  skil- 
ful performance,  the  Joven,  being  in  a  loquacious 
mood,  said,  after  a  pause  for  thought,  "Oh,  yes," 
beamed  with  friendliness,  and  promptly  devoured  an- 
other plateful  of  beef.  I  asked  him  whether  he  never 
regretted  the  quiet  of  his  father's  Cornish  farm,  in 
view  of  the  strenuous  exertions  his  duties  as  rough- 
rider  at  Espartillar  imposed  on  him.  The  Joven 
knocked  out  his  pipe,  lit  another,  thought  for  five  min- 
utes, and  then  said,  "No,  it's  fun,"  displaying  every 
tooth  in  his  head  as  he  did  so  as  a  proof  that  his  con- 
versational brevity  was  due  not  to  a  surly  disposition, 
but  to  the  limitations  of  his  vocabulary. 

The  pupils  at  Espartillar  were  exceedingly  well 
treated.  The  house  was  most  comfortably  furnished, 
and  contained  a  full-sized  English  billiard-table,  two 
pianos,  a  plentiful  supply  of  books,  and  a  barrel- 
organ,  for  this  was  many  years  before  the  birth  of  the 
gramophone.  It  is  the  singular  custom  on  most  es- 
tancias  to  kill  beef  for  six  months  of  the  year,  and 
mutton  for  the  remaining  six,  which  entails  a  certain 
monotony  of  diet.  We  had  fallen  in  for  the  beef- 
eating  half-year,  but  the  French  wife  of  the  English 


248  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

estancia-carpenter  officiated  as  cook,  and  she  had  all 
the  culinary  genius  of  her  countrywomen.  Above  all 
she  avoided  those  twin  abominations  "Ajo"  and  "Aji," 
or  garlic  and  green  chilli,  which  Argentines  cram 
into  every  dish,  thus  making  them  hideously  unpalat- 
able to  Northern  Europeans. 

In  an  absolutely  treeless  land,  without  any  coal 
measures,  fuel  is  one  of  the  greatest  difficulties  of 
camp  life.  In  my  time,  in  the  city  of  Buenos  Ayres, 
all  the  coal  came  from  England,  and  cost,  delivered, 
£5  a  ton.  Its  cost  in  the  country,  hauled  for  perhaps 
twenty  miles  over  the  roadless  camp,  would  be  prohib- 
itive, and  there  was  no  wood  to  be  had.  For  this  rea- 
son, on  every  estancia  there  were  some  ten  acres 
planted  with  peach  trees.  It  seems  horribly  wasteful 
to  cut  down  peach  trees  for  fuel,  but  they  grow  very 
rapidly,  burn  admirably,  and  whilst  they  are  stand- 
ing the  owner  gets  an  unlimited  supply  of  peaches  for 
pickling  and  preserving.  The  soil  of  the  Argentine 
suits  peaches,  and  both  sorts,  the  pink-fleshed  Euro- 
pean "free-stone"  arid  the  American  yellow-fleshed 
"cling-stone,"  do  splendidly.  In  Spanish,  the  former 
are  called  melocotones,  the  latter  duraznos.  At  Es- 
partillar  there  were  quite  twenty  acres  of  peach  trees, 
and  when  Lyon  and  I  wished  to  be  of  use,  the  manager 
frequently  asked  us  to  hitch-up  the  wagon,  and  bring 
him  in  a  few  sackfuls  of  peaches  for  preserving. 

Espartillar  boasted  a  great  neglected  wilderness  of 
a  garden,  as  untidy  and  unkempt  as  a  fashionable 
pianist's  hair,  but  growing  the  most  wonderful  collec- 
tion of  fruit.  Here  pears,  peaches,  lemons,  guavas, 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  249 

and  strawberries  flourished  equally  well  in  the  accom- 
modating Argentine  climate  and  the  pears  of  South 
America,  the  famous  peras  de  agua,  must  be  tasted 
before  their  excellence  can  be  imagined.  The  garden 
was  traversed  by  an  avenue  of  fine  eucalyptus  trees, 
amongst  whose  dusky  foliage  little  screaming  green 
parrakeets  darted  in  and  out  all  day  long,  like  flashes 
of  vivid  emerald  light.  The  garden  was  also,  unfor- 
tunately, the  favourite  recreation-ground  of  a  family 
of  lively  skunks,  and  the  skunk  is  an  animal  whose 
terrific  offensive  powers  necessitate  extreme  caution 
in  approaching  him.  Should  a  young  dog  unwarily 
attempt  to  tackle  a  skunk,  he  had  to  be  rigorously 
quarantined  for  a  fortnight,  for  otherwise  the  inex- 
pressibly sickening  odour  was  unendurable. 

Beyond  the  garden  enclosure,  the  dun-coloured 
expanse  of  treeless  featureless  camp  stretched  its  end- 
less flat  levels  to  the  horizon,  the  wooden  posts  sup- 
porting the  wire  fences  being  the  only  sign  that  man 
had  ever  invaded  these  vast  solitudes.  Our  minds  are 
so  constituted  that  we  set  bounds  to  everything,  for 
everything  to  which  we  are  accustomed  has  limits; 
one  had  a  perpetual  feeling  that  were  one  only  to  ride 
over  the  camp  long  enough,  towns  and  human  habita- 
tions must  be  reached  somewhere.  A  glance  at  the 
map  showed  that  this  was  not  so.  Due  south  one 
could  have  ridden  hundreds  of  miles  with  no  variations 
whatever  to  mark  the  distances  achieved.  This  end- 
less camp  had  apparently  no  beginning  and  no  end; 
it  was  as  though  one  had  suddenly  come  face  to  face 
with  Eternity. 


250  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

All  my  experiences,  however,  are  thirty  years  old. 
I  believe  that  now,  within  a  radius  of  fifty  miles  from 
Buenos  Ayres,  most  of  the  camp  has  been  broken  up 
and  ploughed.  Growing  wheat  now  covers  the  vast 
khaki-coloured  plains  I  recollect  dotted  with  roving 
herds  of  cattle.  The  picturesque  and  half-savage 
Gaucho,  who  lived  entirely  on  meat,  and  would  have 
scorned  to  have  walked  even  a  hundred  yards  on  foot, 
Kas  been  replaced  by  the  Italian  agricultural  labourer, 
who  lives  on  polenta  and  macaroni,  and  will  cheerfully 
trudge  any  distance  to  his  work.  The  great  solitudes 
have  gone,  for  with  tillage  there  must  be  roads  now, 
and  villages,  and  together  with  the  solitudes  the  won- 
derful teeming  bird-life  must  have  vanished,  too. 

I  prefer  to  recollect  the  Espartillar  I  knew,  a  place 
of  unending  spaces  and  glorious  sunshine,  with  air 
almost  as  intoxicating  as  wine,  where  innumerable 
spurred  plovers  screamed  raucously  all  day  long, 
where  the  little  ground-owls  blinked  unceasingly  at 
the  edge  of  their  burrows ;  where  bronze-green  ibises 
flashed  through  the  sunlight,  and  rose-coloured  spoon- 
bills trailed  in  pink  streaks  across  the  blue  sky,  as 
they  flew  in  single  file  from  one  laguna  to  another. 
That  marvellous  bird-life  was  worth  travelling  seven 
thousand  miles  to  see;  wheatfields  can  be  seen  any- 
where. 


CHAPTER  IX 

Difficulties  of  an  Argentine  railway  engineer — Why  Argentina 
has  the  Irish  gauge — A  sudden  contrast — A  more  violent 
contrast — Names  and  their  obligations — Capetown — The 
thoroughness  of  the  Dutch  pioneers — A  dry  and  thirsty  land 
— The  beautiful  Dutch  Colonial  houses — The  Huguenot 
refugees — The  Rhodes  Fruit  Farms — Surf-riding — Groote 
Schuur  —  General  Botha  —  The  Rhodes  Memorial  —  The 
episode  of  the  Sick  Boy — A  visit  from  Father  Neptune — 
What  pluck  will  do. 

A  RAILWAY  engineer  in  the  Argentine  Republic  is 
confronted  with  peculiar  difficulties.  In  the  first 
place,  in  a  treeless  country  there  is  obviously  no  wood 
for  sleepers.  A  thousand  miles  up  the  giant  Parana 
there  are  vast  tracts  of  forest,  but  either  the  wood  is 
unsuited  for  railway-sleepers,  or  the  means  of  trans- 
port are  lacking,  so  the  engineer  is  forced  to  use  iron 
pot-sleepers  for  supporting  his  rails.  These  again  re- 
quire abundant  ballast,  and  there  is  no  ballast  in  a 
country  devoid  of  stone  and  with  a  soil  innocent  of  the 
smallest  pebble.  The  engineer  can  only  use  burnt 
clay  to  ballast  his  road,  and  as  a  result  the  dust  on 
an  Argentine  railway  defies  description.  In  my  time, 
when  carriages  of  the  English  type  were  in  use,  the 
atmosphere  after  an  hour's  run  was  as  thick  as  a  dense 
London  November  fog,  and  after  five  or  six  hours' 
travelling  the  passengers  alighted  with  faces  as  black 
as  niggers'.  Whilst  waiting  for  a  train,  its  approach 
would  be  announced  by  a  vast  pillar  of  dust  appearing 

251 


252  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

in  the  distance.  This  pillar  of  dust  seemed  almost  to 
reach  the  sky,  and  any  passengers  of  Hebraic  origin 
must  really  have  imagined  themselves  back  in  the 
Sinai  peninsula,  and  must  have  wondered  why  the 
dusky  pillar  was  approaching  them  instead  of  lead- 
ing them  on. 

The  difficulties  connected  with  the  working  of  rail- 
ways did  not  end  here.  Most  people  know  that  a 
swarm  of  locusts  can  stop  a  train,  for  the  bodies  of 
these  pests  are  full  of  grease,  and  after  the  engine- 
wheels  have  crushed  countless  thousands  of  locusts, 
the  wheels  become  so  coated  with  oil  that  they  merely 
revolve,  and  refuse  to  grip  the  rails.  Let  the  driver 
open  his  sand-box  never  so  widely,  the  wheels  cannot 
bite,  and  so  the  train  comes  to  a  standstill.  Oddly 
enough,  a  bird,  too,  causes  a  great  deal  of  trouble. 
The  "oven-bird"  makes  a  large  domed  nest  of  clay, 
the  size  of  a  cocoa-nut.  In  that  treeless  land  the 
oven-birds  look  on  telegraph-posts  as  specially  pro- 
vided by  a  benign  Providence  to  afford  them  eligible 
nesting-sites,  and  from  some  perversity  of  instinct, 
or  perhaps  attracted  by  the  gleam  of  the  white  earth- 
enware, they  invariably  select  one  of  the  porcelain  in- 
sulators as  the  site  of  their  future  home,  and  pro- 
ceed to  coat  it  laboriously  with  clay,  thus  effectually 
destroying  the  insulation.  Now  the  working  of  a 
single-line  is  entirely  dependent  on  the  telegraph,  and 
the  oven-birds,  with  their  misplaced  zeal,  were  con- 
tinually interrupting  telegraphic  communication,  so 
on  the  Great  Southern  Railway  of  Buenos  Ayres 
every  single  telegraph-post  was  surmounted  with  a 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  253 

wooden  box,  mutely  proclaiming  itself  the  most  desir- 
able building-site  that  heart  of  bird  could  wish  for, 
and  silently  offering  whatever  equivalents  to  a  gravel 
soil  and  a  southern  aspect  could  suggest  themselves 
to  the  avian  intelligence.  In  spite  of  this  these  mis- 
guided fowls  retained  their  affection  for  the  insulators, 
and  the  Great  Southern  had  during  the  nesting  sea- 
son to  employ  a  gang  of  men  to  tear  the  nests  down. 
Unlike  the  majority  of  railways,  both  in  North  and 
South  America,  which  have  adopted  the  4  ft.  8%  ins. 
gauge,  the  standard  gauge  of  the  Argentine  Repub- 
lic is  the  Irish  one  of  5  ft.  3  ins.,  and  the  reason  of 
this  is  rather  singular.  In  1855,  during  the  Crimean 
War,  a  short  railway  was  laid  down  from  Balaclava 
to  the  British  lines.  The  firm  of  contractors  who  built 
this  railway  for  the  British  Government  had  con- 
structed some  three  years  previously  a  small  railway 
in  Ireland,  for  which  they  had  never  been  paid.  They 
accordingly  seized  the  engines  and  rolling-stock, 
which,  owing  to  the  difference  in  gauge,  were  useless 
in  England.  It  occurred  to  the  contractors  that  they 
might  utilise  this  material  by  building  the  Crimean 
Railway  to  the  Irish  gauge  of  5  ft.  3  ins.,  and  they 
accordingly  proceeded  to  do  so.  Two  years  after 
the  Crimean  War  the  same  firm  secured  the  contract 
for  building  the  first  railway  in  the  Argentine,  a  short 
line,  twenty-one  miles  long,  from  Buenos  Ayres  to 
the  River  Tigre.  As  they  considered  that  their  Cri- 
mean rolling-stock  was  still  in  good  order,  they  ob- 
tained permission  to  build  the  Tigre  Railway  to  the 
Irish  gauge,  and  these  much-travelled  coaches  and 


254  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

engines  which  had  started  their  railway  career  in  Ire- 
land, were  shipped  from  the  Crimea  to  the  Plate,  and 
eventually  found  themselves,  to  their  vast  surprise, 
rolling  between  Buenos  Ayres  and  Tigre.  The  first 
time  that  I  was  in  Buenos  Ayres,  in  1883,  two  of  the 
original  Crimean  engines  were  still  running  on  this 
little  railway,  the  "Balaclava"  and  the  "Eupatoria," 
the  latter  re-christened  "Presidente  Mitre."  The 
newer  railways  followed  the  lead  of  the  pioneer,  and 
so  it  comes  about  that  Ireland  and  the  Argentine  Re- 
public have  the  same  standard  gauge. 

The  vast  solitudes  of  Espartillar  were  within  eight 
hours  of  Buenos  Ayres,  three  by  wagon  and  five  by 
rail,  so  it  was  possible  to  wander  out  one  night  to 
the  star-lit  camp,  where  the  silence  was  only  broken 
by  the  screech  of  an  occasional  night-bird,  or  the  beat 
of  the  wings  of  myriads  of  flighting  ducks,  without 
the  slightest  trace  of  man  or  his  works  perceptible  in 
the  great,  grey,  still,  unpeopled  world,  and  to  be  sit- 
ting the  next  night  in  evening  clothes  in  a  garish, 
over-gilt,  over-decorated  restaurant,  humming  with 
the  clatter  of  plates  and  the  chatter  of  high-pitched 
Argentine  voices,  as  a  noisy  string-band  played  selec- 
tions from  the  latest  Paris  operette.  It  was  difficult 
to  realise  that  this  ostentatiously  modern  town,  with 
its  meretricious  glitter,  and  its  population  of  pale- 
faced  town-breds,  was  only  a  hundred  miles  from  the 
place  where,  amongst  brown,  sunburnt  folk,  we  had 
been  living  a  primitive  life  tempered  by  quiet  trans- 
planted English  comfort. 

To  me  there  is  always  something  rather  attractive 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  255 

in  sudden  contrasts  in  surroundings.  My  memory 
goes  back  forty  years  to  Russia,  when  I  was  on  a  bear- 
shooting  expedition  with  Sir  Robert  Kennedy.  Ken- 
nedy had  killed  two  bears,  and  we  were  making  our 
way  back  to  Petrograd  that  night,  for  next  evening 
there  was  to  be  one  of  the  famous  "Bals  des  Palmiers" 
at  the  Winter  Palace  which  we  neither  of  us  wished  to 
miss.  So  it  came  about  that  one  evening  we  were 
sitting  in  a  two-roomed  peasant's  house,  thigh-booted 
and  flannel-shirted,  in  the  roughest  of  clothes,  de- 
vouring sustenance  for  our  night's  sledge  journey 
out  of  pieces  of  newspaper  by  the  light  of  a  little 
smoky  oil-lamp,  whilst  around  us  stood  half  the  vil- 
lage, whispering  endless  comments,  and  gaping  open- 
eyed  on  those  mysterious  strangers  from  the  unknown 
world  outside  Russia.  The  room  was  lined  with  rough 
unpainted  boards  nailed  over  the  log  walls ;  one  quar- 
ter of  it  was  occupied  by  a  huge  stove,  on  the  top  of 
which  the  children  were  sleeping;  it  was  very  dirty, 
and  the  heat  in  combination  with  the  fetid  atmos- 
phere was  almost  unendurable.  A  dimly  lit  picture, 
all  in  sombre  browns,  relieved  by  the  scarlet  shirts 
of  the  men,  and  the  gaudy  printed  calicoes  of  the 
women,  just  visible  in  the  uncertain  light  of  the  flick- 
ering lamp,  and  of  the  red  glow  from  the  stove.  Then 
came  an  all-night  drive  in  sjedges  through  the  inter- 
minable forest  of  pines,  the  piercing  cold  lashing  our 
faces  like  a  whip,  and  the  stars  blazing  in  the  great 
expanse  of  dull-polished  steel  above  us  with  that 
hard  diamond-like  radiance  they  only  assume  when 
the  thermometer  is  down  below  zero. 


256  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

Twenty-four  hours  later  we  were  both  in  the  vast 
halls  of  the  Winter  Palace  in  full  uniform,  as  bediz- 
ened with  gold  as  a  nouveau  riche's  drawing-room. 
Though  the  world  outside  may  have  been  frost-bound, 
Winter's  domain  stopped  at  the  threshold  of  the  Pal- 
ace, for  once  inside,  banks  of  growing  hyacinths  and 
tulips  bloomed  bravely,  and  the  big  palms,  from  which 
the  balls  derived  their  name,  stood  aligned  down  the 
great  halls,  as  though  they  were  in  their  native  South 
Sea  Isles,  with  a  supper-table  for  twelve  persons  ar- 
ranged under  each  of  them.  Those  "Bals  des  Pal- 
miers"  were  really  like  a  scene  from  the  Arabian 
Nights,  what  with  the  varied  uniforms  of  the  men, 
the  impressive  Russian  Court  dresses  of  the  women, 
the  jewels,  the  lights,  and  the  masses  of  flowers.  The 
immense  scale  of  everything  in  the  Winter  Palace 
added  to  the  effect,  and  the  innumerable  rooms,  some 
of  them  of  gigantic  size,  rather  gained  in  dignity  by 
being  sparsely  tenanted,  for  only  1,500  people  were 
asked  to  the  "Palmier s."  There  was  nothing  like  it 
anywhere  else  in  Europe,  and  no  one  now  living  will 
ever  look  on  so  brilliant  a  scene,  set  in  so  vast  a  cadre. 
There  was  really  a  marked  contrast  between  the  two 
consecutive  evenings  Kennedy  and  I  had  spent  to- 
gether. 

One  of  the  ladies  of  the  British  Embassy  in  Pet- 
rograd  inquired  of  a  Court  official  what  the  cost  of 
a  "Bal  des  Palmiers"  amounted  to.  The  chamberlain 
replied  that  for  1,500  people  the  cost  would  be  about 
£9,000,  working  out  at  <£6  per  head.  This  included 
a  special  train  all  the  way  from  Nice  with  growing 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  257 

and  cut  flowers,  and  another  special  train  from  the 
Crimea  with  fruit.  A  very  expensive  item  was  the 
carriage  by  road  from  Tsarskoe  Selo  of  one  hundred 
specially  grown  large  palm  trees  in  specially  con- 
structed frost-proof  vans;  there  was  also  the  heavy 
cost  of  the  supper  and  wine,  which  for  the  "Bals  des 
Palmiers"  was  provided  on  a  far  more  sumptuous 
scale  than  at  the  ordinary  Court  entertainments  and 
balls. 

Ichabod !    Ichabod ! 

Certain  names  carry  their  own  responsibilities;  for 
instance,  when  a  town  proudly  proclaimed  itself  the 
"City  of  Good  Airs"  it  should  live  up  to  its  title. 
The  Buenos  Ayres  of  the  early  "eighties"  was  a  no- 
toriously insanitary  place  without  any  system  of 
proper  drainage.  Some  of  the  "Good  Airs"  fairly 
knocked  one  down  when  one  encountered  them.  That 
has  all  now  been  rectified;  Buenos  Ayres  is  at  pres- 
ent admirably  drained,  and  is  one  of  the  healthiest 
cities  of  South  America. 

Certain  names,  again,  have  their  drawbacks.  Helen 
Lady  Duff erin,  the  mother  of  my  old  Chief  and  god- 
father, was  the  grand-daughter  of  Richard  Brinsley 
Sheridan,  and  in  common  with  her  two  sisters,  the 
JDuchess  of  Somerset  and  Mrs.  Norton,  she  had  in- 
herited her  full  share  of  the  Sheridan  wit.  As  I  have 
pointed  out  elsewhere,  people  of  a  certain  class  in 
London  maintained  in  those  days  far  closer  relations 
with  persons  of  a  corresponding  class  in  Paris  than 
is  the  custom  now.  Lady  Dufferin  had  innumerable 
friends  in  Paris,  and  amongst  the  oldest  of  these 


258  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

friends  was  Comte  Joseph  de  Noailles.  Whenever 
the  Comte  de  Noailles  came  to  London,  Lady  Duf- 
ferin  was  the  first  person  he  went  to  see.  When  they 
were  both  in  their  old  age,  the  Comte  de  Noailles  ar- 
rived in  London,  and,  as  usual,  went  to  dine  with  his 
friend  of  many  years.  As  it  was  a  warm  evening  in 
July,  he  walked  to  Lady  Dufferin's  house  from  his 
hotel,  carrying  his  overcoat  on  his  arm.  On  leaving 
the  house,  the  old  gentleman  forgot  his  cloak,  and 
Lady  Duff  erin  received  a  note  the  next  morning  ask- 
ing her  to  be  good  enough  to  send  back  the  cloak  by 
the  bearer.  The  note  was  signed  "Joseph  de  Noail- 
les."  Lady  Duff  erin  returned  the  cloak  with  this  mes- 
sage, "Monsieur,  lorsqu'  on  a  le  malheur  de  s'appeler 
Joseph,  on  ne  laisse  pas  son  manteau  chez  une  dame." 
Joseph  naturally  suggests  Egypt,  and  Egypt  re- 
calls Africa,  and  on  the  whole  African  continent  there 
is  surely  no  more  delectable  spot  than  the  Cape  penin- 
sula. Capetown  with  its  suburbs  is  dominated  every- 
where by  the  gigantic  flat-topped  rock  of  Table  Moun- 
tain. Go  where  you  will  amongst  the  most  splendid 
woodland,  coast  and  mountain  scenery  in  the  world, 
that  ever-changing  rampart  of  rock  is  still  the  cen- 
tral feature.  Jan  Van  Riebeck,  the  original  Dutch 
pioneer  of  1652,  must  have  yielded  to  the  irresistible 
claims  of  Table  Bay  as  a  harbour  with  a  very  bad 
grace,  before  founding  his  new  settlement  on  the 
slopes  of  Table  Mountain.  Every  racial  and  inher- 
ited instinct  in  him  must  have  positively  itched  to 
select  in  preference  some  nice  low  swampy  site,  for 
choice  in  the  Cape  Flats,  if  not  actually  below  sea- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  259 

level,  at  all  events  at  sea-level,  where  substantial  brick 
dams  could  be  erected  against  the  encroaching  waters, 
where  he  could  construct  an  elaborate  system  of  ca- 
nals, and  where  windmills  would  have  to  pump  day 
and  night  to  prevent  the  place  becoming  submerged. 
The  Dutch,  both  in  Java  and  in  Demerara,  had 
yielded  to  this  misplaced  affection  for  a  sea-level  site, 
and  had  constructed  Batavia  and  Georgetown  strictly 
according  to  their  racial  ideals,  with  a  prodigal  abund- 
ance of  canals.  Though  this  doubtless  gave  the  set- 
tlers a  home-like  feeling,  the  canal-intersected  town 
of  Batavia  is  so  unhealthy  under  a  broiling  tropical 
sun  that  it  has  been  virtually  abandoned  as  a  place 
of  residence. 

Capetown  has  none  of  the  raw,  unfinished  aspect 
so  many  Colonial  towns  wear,  but  has  a  solid,  grave 
dignity  of  its  own,  and  its  suburbs  are  unquestion- 
ably charming.  The  settled,  permanent  look  of  the 
town  is  perhaps  due  to  the  fact  that  there  is  not  a 
single  wooden  house  or  fence  in  Capetown,  every- 
thing is  of  substantial  brick,  stone  and  iron.  The 
Dutch  were  admirable  town-planners ;  since  the  coun- 
try has  been  in  British  hands  our  national  haphazard 
carelessness  has  asserted  itself,  and  the  city  has  been 
extended  without  any  apparent  design  whatever.  I 
was  certainly  not  prepared  for  the  magnificent  groves 
of  oaks  which  are  such  a  feature  of  Capetown  and  its 
vicinity.  These  oaks,  far  larger  than  any  to  which 
we  are  accustomed,  bear  witness  to  the  painstaking 
thoroughness  of  the  Dutch.  Before  an  oak  capable 
of  withstanding  the  arid  climate  and  burning  sun  of 


260  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

South  Africa  could  be  produced,  it  had  to  be  crossed 
and  re-crossed  many  times.  The  existing  stately  tree 
is  the  fruit  of  this  patient  labour;  it  grows  at  twice 
the  pace  of  our  oaks,  and  attains  far  larger  dimen- 
sions; it  is  quite  useless  as  a  timber  tree,  but  pro- 
duces enormous  acorns  which,  in  windy  weather,  de- 
scend in  showers  from  the  trees  and  batter  the  cor- 
rugated iron  roofs  of  the  houses  with  a  noise  like  an 
air-raid. 

The  Union  of  South  Africa  is  unfortunate  in  hav- 
ing the  great  range  of  the  Drakensberg  running 
parallel  to  the  coastline  for  hundreds  of  miles,  for 
until  the  Zambesi  is  reached  there  are  practically  no 
navigable  rivers  at  all.  This  barrier  mountain  range, 
and  the  recklessness  of  the  early  settlers  in  cutting 
down  the  forests,  are  together  responsible  for  the  arid- 
ity of  South  Africa.  She  is,  indeed,  as  Ezekiel  said 
of  old,  "planted  in  the  wilderness,  in  a  dry  and  thirsty 
ground."  The  Cape  peninsula  is  comparatively  well- 
watered  ;  between  the  giant  rocky  buttresses  of  Table 
Mountain  little  clear  streams  gush  down,  and  there 
are  several  brooks,  proudly  termed  "rivers"  locally, 
quite  visible  to  the  naked  eye.  Everything  in  this 
world  is  relative.  I  remember  at  Alkmaar  in  North 
Holland  ascending  an  artificial  mound  perhaps  sev- 
enty feet  high,  planted  with  trees.  In  the  dead-flat 
expanse  of  the  Low  Countries,  this  hillock  is  looked 
on  by  the  natives  of  Alkmaar  much  as  Mont  Blanc  is 
regarded  by  the  inhabitants  of  Geneva,  with  feelings 
of  profound  veneration ;  so  in  South  Africa  the  tiniest 
brooklet  is  the  source  of  immense  pride  to  the  dwellers 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  261 

on  its  banks,  and  rightly  so,  for  it  is  the  very  life- 
blood  of  the  district,  and  literally  Isaiah's  "rivers  of 
water  in  a  dry  place."  I  always  carefully  avoided  any 
allusion  to  the  sixteen  different  burns  running  through 
the  park  at  Baron's  Court,  for  it  might  have  looked 
like  arrogance  to  boast  of  this  super-abundance  of 
water  in  my  old  home,  where,  between  ourselves,  a 
wholly  dry  day  was  rather  a  notable  rarity.  Where 
the  aridity  is  most  noticeable  is  in  the  great  oak  and 
fir  woods  at  Groote  Schuur,  the  lordly  pleasure-house 
which  Cecil  Rhodes  built  for  himself  at  Rondebosch, 
under  the  slopes  of  the  Devil's  Peak.  Here,  under 
the  trees,  the  ground  is  absolutely  bare;  not  even  the 
faintest  sign  of  grass,  not  the  smallest  scrap  of  vege- 
tation. Rondebosch  Parish  Church  might  have  been 
lifted  bodily  from  England ;  it  is  an  exceedingly  hand- 
some building  of  a  very  familiar  type,  yet  in  the 
churchyard  there  was  not  one  blade  of  green ;  nothing 
but  naked  earth  between  the  graves.  Fortunately  the 
Australian  myrtle  has  been  introduced,  a  shrub  that 
can  apparently  dispense  with  moisture,  so  thanks  to 
it  every  garden  in  the  Capetown  suburbs  is  sur- 
rounded by  a  hedge  of  vivid  perennial  green.  These 
suburbs  have  a  wonderfully  home-like  look,  embow- 
ered as  they  are  in  oak  trees,  and  the  buildings  are 
all  of  the  solid  familiar  type;  even  the  very  railway 
stations,  except  for  their  nameboards,  might  be  at 
Wandsworth  Common,  Balham,  or  Barnes,  instead  of 
at  Rosebank,  Rondebosch,  and  Claremont,  though 
Balham  and  Barnes  are  not  fortunate  enough  to  have 
the  purple  ramparts  of  Table  Mountain  or  the  Devil's 


262  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

Peak  towering  over  them,  whilst,  on  the  other  hand, 
they  fortunately  escape  the  all-pervading  South  Afri- 
can dust. 

I  like  the  name  "The  Tavern  of  the  Ocean,"  for- 
merly given  to  Capetown ;  and  what  a  welcome  break 
it  must  have  afforded  in  the  wearisome  voyage  from 
Europe  to  the  Dutch  East  Indies,  or  to  India  proper! 
The  Netherlands  Dutch  seem  only  to  have  regarded 
it  as  a  half-way  house,  a  sort  of  unimportant  railway 
"halt"  between  Europe  and  the  East,  where  the  nec- 
essary fresh  water  and  green  vegetables  could  be  sup- 
plied to  passing  vessels.  It  was  not  until  Simon  Van 
der  Stel  was  appointed  Governor  in  1678  that  any 
idea  of  developing  the  Cape  as  a  colony  was  ever  en- 
tertained. Van  der  Stel  has  left  his  impress  deep 
on  the  country.  Though  the  vine  had  been  already 
introduced  by  Van  Riebeck,  it  is  to  Van  der  Stel  that 
the  special  features  of  Cape  scenery  are  due,  for  we 
owe  to  him  the  splendid  groves  of  oak  of  to-day,  and 
he  originated  the  Dutch  Colonial  type  of  building, 
of  which  so  many  fine  specimens  still  remain.  These 
old  Dutch  houses  are  a  constant  puzzle  to  me.  In 
most  new  countries  the  original  white  settlers  content 
themselves  with  the  most  primitive  kind  of  dwelling, 
for  where  there  is  so  much  work  to  be  done  the  orna- 
mental yields  place  to  the  necessary;  but  here,  at  the 
very  extremity  of  the  African  continent,  the  Dutch 
pioneers  created  for  themselves  elaborate  houses  with 
admirable  architectural  details,  houses  recalling  in 
some  ways  the  chateaux  of  the  Low  Countries. 
Where  did  they  get  the  architects  to  design  these 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  263 

buildings?  Where  did  they  find  the  trained  craftsmen 
to  execute  the  architects'  designs?  Why  did  the  set- 
tlers, struggling  with  the  difficulties  of  an  untamed 
wilderness,  require  such  large  and  ornate  dwellings? 
I  have  never  heard  any  satisfactory  answers  to  these 
questions.  Groot  Constantia,  originally  the  home  of 
Simon  Van  der  Stel,  now  the  government  wine-farm, 
and  Morgenster,  the  home  of  Mrs.  Van  der  Byl,  would 
be  beautiful  buildings  anywhere,  but  considering  that 
they  were  both  erected  in  the  seventeenth  century,  in 
a  land  just  emerging  from  barbarism  seven  thousand 
miles  away  from  Europe,  a  land,  too,  where  trained 
workmen  must  have  been  impossible  to  find,  the  very 
fact  of  their  ever  having  come  into  existence  at  all 
leaves  me  in  bewilderment. 

These  Colonial  houses,  most  admirably  adapted  to 
a  warm  climate,  correspond  to  nothing  in  Holland,  or 
even  in  Java.  They  are  nearly  all  built  in  the  shape 
of  an  H,  either  standing  upright  or  lying  on  its  side, 
the  connecting  bar  of  the  H  being  occupied  by  the 
dining-room.  They  all  stand  on  stoeps  or  raised  ter- 
races; they  are  always  one-storied  and  thatched,  and 
owe  much  of  their  effect  to  their  gables,  their  many- 
paned,  teak-framed  windows,  and  their  solid  teak  out- 
side shutters.  Their  white-washed,  gabled  fronts  are 
ornamented  with  pilasters  and  decorative  plaster- 
work,  and  these  dignified,  perfectly  proportioned 
buildings  seem  in  absolute  harmony  with  their  sur- 
roundings. Still  I  cannot  understand  how  they  got 
erected,  or  why  the  original  Dutch  pioneers  chose 
to  house  themselves  in  such  lordly  fashion.  At  Groot 


264  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

Constantia,  which  still  retains  its  original  furniture, 
the  rooms  are  paved  with  black  and  white  marble,  and 
contain  a  wealth  of  great  cabinets  of  the  familiar 
Dutch  type,  of  ebony  mounted  with  silver,  of  stink- 
wood  and  brass,  of  oak  and  steel;  one  might  be  gaz- 
ing at  a  Dutch  interior  by  Jan  Van  de  Meer,  or  by 
Peter  de  Hoogh,  instead  of  at  a  room  looking  on  to 
the  Indian  Ocean,  and  only  eight  miles  distant  from 
the  Cape  of  Good  Hope.  How  did  these  elaborate 
works  of  art  come  there?  The  local  legend  is  that 
they  were  copied  by  slave  labour  from  imported 
Dutch  models,  but  I  cannot  believe  that  untrained 
Hottentots  can  ever  have  developed  the  craftsman- 
ship and  skill  necessary  to  produce  these  fine  pieces 
of  furniture.  I  think  it  far  more  likely  to  be  due  to 
the  influx  of  French  Huguenot  refugees  in  1689,  the 
Edict  of  Nantes  having  been  revoked  in  1685,  the 
same  year  in  which  Simon  Van  der  Stel  began  to 
build  Groot  Constantia.  Wherever  these  French 
Huguenots  settled  they  brought  civilisation  in  their 
train,  and  proved  a  blessing  to  the  country  of  their 
adoption.  In  England  they  taught  us  silk-weaving 
and  clock-making,  starting  the  one  in  Spitalfields,  the 
other  in  Clerkenwell.  In  Dublin,  where  a  strong 
colony  of  them  settled,  they  introduced  the  making 
of  tabinet,  or  "Irish  poplin,"  and  I  am  told  that  the 
much-sought-after  "Irish"  silver  was  almost  entirely 
the  work  of  French  Huguenot  refugees.  Here,  at 
the  far-off  Cape,  the  Huguenots  settled  in  the  valleys 
of  the  Drakenstein,  of  the  Hottentot's  Holland,  and 
at  French  Hoek ;  and  they  made  the  wilderness  bios- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  265 

som,  and  transformed  its  barren  spaces  into  smiling 
wheatfields  and  oak-shaded  vineyards.  They  inci- 
dentally introduced  the  dialect  of  Dutch  known  as 
"The  Taal,"  for  when  the  speaking  of  Dutch  was 
made  compulsory  for  them,  they  evolved  a  simplified 
form  of  the  language  more  adapted  to  their  French 
tongues.  I  suspect,  too,  that  the  artistic  impulse 
which  produced  the  dignified  Colonial  houses,  and 
built  so  beautiful  a  town  as  Stellenbosch  (a  name 
with  most  painful  associations  for  many  military  offi- 
cers whose  memories  go  back  twenty  years)  must  have 
come  from  the  French.  Stellenbosch,  with  its  two- 
hundred-year-old  houses,  their  fronts  rich  with  elabo- 
rate plaster  scroll-work,  all  its  streets  shaded  with 
avenues  of  giant  oaks  and  watered  by  two  clear 
streams,  is  such  an  inexplicable  town  to  find  in  a  new 
country,  for  it  might  have  hundreds  of  years  of  tra- 
dition behind  it!  Wherever  they  may  have  got  it 
from,  the  artistic  instinct  of  the  old  Cape  Dutch  is 
undeniable,  for  a  hundred  years  after  Van  der  Stel's 
time  they  imported  the  French  architect  Thibault 
and  the  Dutch  sculptor  Anton  Anreith.  To  Anreith 
is  due  the  splendid  sculptured  pediment  over  the  Con- 
stantia  wine-house  illustrating  the  story  of  Gany- 
mede, and  all  Thibault 's  buildings  have  great  distinc- 
tion; but  still,  being  where  they  are,  they  are  a  per- 
petual surprise,  for  in  a  new  country  one  does  no* 
expect  such  a  high  level  of  artistic  achievement. 

Many  of  the  fine  old  Colonial  homesteads  are 
grouped  together  in  what  are  now  the  Rhodes  Fruit 
Farms  in  the  Drakenstein.  So  attractive  are  they 


266  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

that  I  do  not  wonder  that  a  very  near  relative  of 
mine  has  bought  one  of  them  for  his  son ;  and  I  envy 
my  great-nephew  who  will  one  day  sit  under  the 
shadow  of  his  own  vines  and  fig  trees  at  Lormarins, 
amongst  groves  of  peaches,  apricots  and  plums.  I 
cherish  pleasant  recollections  of  a  visit  to  Boschen- 
daal,  also  in  the  Fruit  Farm  district,  a  delightful  old 
house,  standing  over  a  jungle  of  a  garden  where  a 
brook  babbles  through  thickets  of  orange  and  lemon 
trees,  and  amongst  great  tangles  of  bougainvillaea  and 
pink  oleanders,  and  in  whose  shady  dining-hall  I  was 
hospitably  entertained  by  a  Dutch  farmer  on  an  ome- 
lette of  ostrich's  egg  (one  egg  is  enough  for  six  peo- 
ple), on  "most-bolajie"  (bread  made  with  sweet  new 
wine  instead  of  with  water) ,  and  other  local  delicacies, 
including  "mabos,"  or  alternate  slices  of  dry  salted 
peaches  and  dry  sweetened  apricots.  This  condiment 
is  cynically  known  as  married  life.  In  the  voorhuis 
of  Boschendaal  lay  nineteen  fine  leopard  skins,  and 
Mr.  Louw,  the  courtly  mannered  old  farmer,  who 
would  be  described  by  his  countrymen  as  an  "oprech- 
ter  Burger,"  explained  to  me  in  slow  and  laborious 
English  that  he  had  killed  every  one  of  these  leopards 
with  his  own  hand  within  one  mile  of  his  own  house. 

A  most  attractive  land  were  it  not  for  the  aridity. 
Should  I  settle  there  I  should  be  forever  regretfully 
recalling  the  lush  greenery  of  English  meadows  in 
June,  or  of  English  woods  in  spring-time. 

Just  conceive  of  Van  der  Stel's  astonishment  when 
he  first  reached  the  Cape!  He  must  have  been  used 
to  a  small,  dead-flat,  water-logged  land,  with  odorif- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  267 

erous  canals  at  every  turn,  and  thousands  of  wind- 
mills pumping  day  and  night  for  all  they  were  worth 
to  keep  the  country  afloat  at  all;  after  a  voyage  of 
seven  thousand  miles  he  found  himself  in  a  land  of 
mighty  mountain  ranges,  of  vast,  illimitable  distances, 
parched  by  a  fierce  sun,  and  nearly  waterless.  It  must 
have  needed  immense  courage  to  start  the  founding 
of  a  New  Holland  in  such  (to  him)  uncongenial  sur- 
roundings. As  a  tribute  to  the  adaptable  South  Afri- 
can climate,  I  may  say  that  I  have  myself  seen,  on 
Sir  Thomas  Smartt's  well-watered  farm,  apple  trees 
and  orange  trees  fruiting  and  ripening  in  the  same 
field. 

When  I  was  invited  to  go  surf -bathing  at  Muizen- 
berg,  I  rubbed  my  eyes,  for  I  had  vague  ideas  that 
this  pastime  was  confined  to  South  Sea  Islanders. 
Recollections  of  Ballantyne's  books  crowded  in  on 
me ;  of  apparently  harmless  sandal-wood  traders,  who 
unblushingly  doubled  the  part  of  bloodthirsty  pirates 
with  their  peaceful  avocations;  of  bevies  of  swarthy 
but  merry  maidens  rolling  in  on  their  planks  on  the 
top  of  vast  surges ;  of  possibly  some  hideous  banquet 
of  taro  roots  and  "long  pig"  (baked  over  hot  stones 
under  a  cover  of  plantain  leaves)  to  follow  on  these 
primitive  pastimes;  even  perhaps  of  some  coloured 
captive  maiden,  wreathed  in  hibiscus  flowers,  loudly 
proclaiming  her  distaste  at  the  idea  of  being  compul- 
sorily  converted  into  "long  pig."  I  should,  of  course, 
have  had  to  rescue  her  after  exhibiting  prodigies  of 
valour,  to  find  this  dumb  but  devoted  damsel  clinging 
to  me  like  a  leech,  remaining  a  most  embarrassing  ap- 


268  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

pendage  until  she  had  learned  sufficient  English  to 
answer  "I  will,"  when  I  could  have  united  her  to  a 
suitable  mate,  a  copper-coloured  yet  contented  bride. 

When  Capetown  swelters  in  heat,  Muizenberg  is 
generally  ten  degrees  cooler,  though,  most  obligingly, 
the  water  of  the  Indian  Ocean  at  Muizenberg  is  ten 
degrees  warmer  than  that  of  the  Atlantic  at  Cape- 
town, owing  to  the  Antarctic  current  setting  in  to  the 
latter. 

At  Muizenberg  we  found  half  the  population  of 
South  Africa  in  the  water  in  front  of  the  biggest 
bathing-house  I  have  ever  seen.  The  handling  of  the 
surf -plank  requires  some  care,  for  it  is  a  short,  heavy 
board,  and  in  the  back-wash  is  apt  to  fly  back  on  the 
unwary,  hitting  them  on  their  food-receptacle,  and  ef- 
fectually (to  use  a  schoolboy  term)  "bagging  their 
wind."  You  walk  out  in  the  shoal  water  up  to  your 
shoulders,  and  as  a  big  sea  comes  in,  you  throw  your- 
self chest  foremost  on  to  your  plank,  and  are  then 
carried  along  on  the  top  of  the  roller  at  the  pace  of 
a  leisurely  train  (an  Isle  of  Wight  train),  to  be  de- 
posited with  a  bang  on  the  sandy  beach.  It  is  really 
capital  fun,  but  alas  for  my  flower-wreathed  South 
Sea  Island  maidens!  Excluding  our  own  party  I 
only  saw  many  amply  waisted  ladies  disporting  them- 
selves staidly  in  the  water,  and  the  surrounding  cine- 
mas and  tea-shops  might  have  been  at  Brighton,  ex- 
cept that  they  were  far  smarter  and  much  better  kept. 
Owing  to  the  strongly  marked  facial  characteristics 
of  some  of  the  customers  in  these  places,  who  were 
mostly  from  Johannesburg,  I  at  first  imagined  that 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  269 

I  must  have  wandered  inadvertently  into  Jerusalem, 
or  that  I  had  perhaps  drifted  to  some  fashionable 
health  resort  on  the  shores  of  the  Dead  Sea. 

Groote  Schuur,  the  stately  house  built  by  Cecil 
Rhodes  for  himself,  and  by  his  will  bequeathed  as  the 
official  home  of  the  Premier  of  South  Africa,  became 
very  familiar  to  me.  These  modern  adaptations  of 
the  Dutch  Colonial  style  have  one  marked  advantage 
over  their  originals.  In  the  old  houses  the  stoep  is 
merely  an  uncovered  terrace  on  which  the  house 
stands.  In  the  modern  houses  the  stoep  is  a  shady, 
pillared,  covered  gallery,  which  in  hot  weather  be- 
comes the  general  living-room  of  the  family.  Hav- 
ing built  his  house,  Cecil  Rhodes  employed  agents  to 
hunt  up  in  Holland  fine  specimens  of  genuine  old 
Dutch  furniture  with  which  to  plenish  it.  Some  of 
these  agents  surely  exceeded  their  instructions  in  the 
matter  of  grandfather  clocks.  They  must  have  abso- 
lutely denuded  the  Low  Countries  of  these  useful 
timepieces,  for  at  every  step  at  Groote  Schuur  a  fresh 
solemn-faced  Dutch  clock  ticks  gravely  away,  to  re- 
mind one  how  time  is  passing.  Rhodes  collected  a 
very  fine  library,  but  he  had  a  curious  fad  for  type- 
written copies  of  his  favourite  books,  which  fill  an 
entire  bookcase  in  the  library.  Rhodes  paid  an  im- 
mense price  for  the  splendid  set  of  seventeenth-cen- 
tury Brussels  tapestries  in  the  dining-room,  illustrat- 
ing the  "Discovery  of  Africa,"  and  the  magnificent 
Cordova  leather  in  the  drawing-room  must  also  have 
been  a  costly  acquisition.  The  deep  ravine  running 
beside  the  house  he  had  planted  with  blue  hydrangeas 


270  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

throughout  its  length ;  when  these  are  in  flower,  inter- 
spersed with  scarlet  and  orange  cannas,  they  form  the 
most  glorious  mass  of  colour  imaginable,  as  do  the 
hedges  of  pink  and  white  oleanders  in  the  garden, 
each  one  with  its  smaller,  attendant  clipped  hedge  of 
pale-blue  plumbago. 

To  me,  I  confess,  the  most  interesting  thing  in  the 
house  was  General  Botha  himself.  When  he  talked 
of  the  future  of  South  Africa  in  slow,  rather  laboured 
English  (for  this  medium  was  always  a  little  diffi- 
cult for  him),  one  felt  that  one  was  in  the  presence 
of  a  really  great  man.  His  transparent  honesty,  and 
his  obvious  sincerity  of  purpose,  stood  out  as  clearly 
as  his  strong  common  sense.  On  looking  at  his  power- 
ful, almost  stern,  face,  one  realised  that  here  was  a 
man  who  would  allow  nothing  to  turn  him  from  his 
purpose  once  he  was  convinced  that  he  was  right;  a 
man,  too,  to  whom  anything  in  the  way  of  underhand 
intrigue,  or  backstairs  negotiations,  would  be  tempera- 
mentally repugnant.  The  chivalrous  foeman  had  be- 
come the  most  loyal  ally,  and  an  ally  of  whom  the 
entire  British  Empire  should  be  proud.  There  was 
nothing  tortuous  about  the  farmer  turned  soldier,  and 
the  soldier  turned  statesman. 

Of  Mrs.  Botha  I  should  not  like  to  say  too  much, 
lest  I  might  be  accused  of  flattery.  As  I  shall  pres- 
ently relate,  she  was  wonderfully  kind  to  a  very  sick 
lad  whom  I  brought  out  to  Africa  with  me. 

There  is  a  curious  custom  in  South  Africa  of  drink- 
ing tea  at  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning.  So  en- 
grained is  the  habit  that  the  streets  of  Capetown  at 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  271 

eleven  o'clock  are  black  with  business  men  rushing 
from  their  offices  to  the  nearest  tea-shop  in  search  of 
this  reviving  draught ;  in  fact,  I  believe  that  in  offices 
there  is  a  rigid  line  of  demarcation  between  the  seniors 
who  go  out  for  this  indispensable  cup  of  tea  and  the 
juniors  who  have  to  have  it  brought  them. 

At  Groote  Schuur  at  eleven  o'clock  there  was  al- 
ways a  great  gathering  for  this  important  ceremony, 
and  naturally  the  Dutch  element  usually  predomi- 
nated. I  could  never  find  any  trace  of  racial  bitter- 
ness amongst  the  men;  with  some  of  the  women  it  was 
rather  different.  Onlookers  are  apt  to  be  more  bitterly 
partisan  than  those  who  have  taken  actual  part  in  the 
conflict. 

A  mile  or  so  from  Groote  Schuur  House  stands 
the  beautiful  Rhodes  Memorial,  on  the  slopes  of  the 
Devil's  Peak.  This  austere  temple  of  milk-white 
granite,  with  the  great  flight  of  steps  flanked  by 
bronze  lions  leading  up  to  it,  and  its  backing  of  pine 
trees,  is  in  absolute  harmony  with  its  surroundings, 
and  its  very  severity  seems  typical  of  the  rugged  en- 
ergy of  the  man  whose  memory  it  commemorates.  I 
cannot  help  wishing,  though,  that  Mr.  Herbert  Baker, 
its  architect,  had  built  it  on  rather  a  larger  scale,  for 
its  gigantic  environment  appears  to  dwarf  the  monu- 
ment when  seen  from  a  few  miles  off.  Watts's  figure 
of  "Physical  Energy,"  to  be  appreciated,  must  be  seen 
here  in  the  position  for  which  it  was  designed.  Stand- 
ing at  the  foot  of  the  great  flight  of  stairs,  with  its 
background  of  purple  mountain,  and  Africa  stretch- 
ing away  endlessly  below  it,  it  is  really  magnificent. 


272  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

The  replica  erected  in  Kensington  Gardens,  and 
placed  with  singular  infelicity  on  grass  between  an 
avenue  of  elm  trees,  gives  but  little  idea  of  the  effect 
of  the  original,  towering  high  over  what  Rhodes  main- 
tained was  the  finest  view  in  the  world,  a  view  extend- 
ing over  the  immense  expanse  of  the  Cape  Flats,  and 
embracing  two  oceans,  with  the  splendid  mountains 
of  Hottentot's  Holland  in  the  background.  If  the 
bronze  rider,  gazing  with  shaded  eyes  over  the  Africa 
that  Rhodes  loved,  is  typical  of  his  life,  the  calm  white 
austerity  of  the  temple  in  the  background  seems  sym- 
bolical of  the  peace  which  that  restless  soul  has  now 
found. 

The  vineyards,  oaks  and  wheatfields  of  the  com- 
paratively well-watered  Cape  peninsula  are  not  rep- 
resentative of  the  rest  of  the  Union.  Once  the  train 
has  laboriously  clambered  3,000  feet  up  the  Hex  River 
Pass,  real  Africa  commences.  Endless  tracts  of  roll- 
ing arid  veld,  with  an  atmosphere  so  clear  that  it  is 
impossible  for  a  newcomer  to  determine  whether  the 
kopje  seen  in  the  distance  is  five  miles,  ten  miles,  or 
twenty  miles  away.  I  quite  understand  the  fascina- 
tion of  these  bare  stretches  of  veld  and  the  irresistible 
attraction  which  Africa  exercises  over  her  children, 
for  it  is  unlike  anything  else  in  the  world. 

I  have  a  theory  that  when  Moses  "removed  the 
swarms  of  flies  from  Pharaoh,"  he  banished  them  to 
the  southern  extremity  of  the  continent,  where  the 
flies,  imagining  that  their  services  might  some  day  be 
required  again  to  plague  the  Egyptians,  have  kept 
themselves  in  a  constant  state  of  mobilisation  ever 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  273 

since.  In  no  other  way  can  the  plague  of  flies  in 
South  Africa  be  accounted  for. 

The  wonderful  effect  of  the  dry  air  of  the  Cape 
peninsula,  and  of  the  drier  air  of  the  High  Veld  in 
cases  of  tuberculosis  is  a  matter  of  common  knowl- 
edge, for  was  not  Cecil  Rhodes  himself  a  standing  ex- 
ample of  an  almost  miraculous  recovery?  All  of 
which  brings  me  to  the  episode  of  the  Sick  Boy,  and 
if  I  dwell  on  it  at  some  length  I  do  so  intentionally 
for  the  comfort  and  better  encouragement  of  those 
battling  with  the  same  disease.  I  first  met  the  Sick 
Boy  (hereinafter  for  the  sake  of  brevity  termed  the 
"S.B.")  at  the  house  of  one  of  my  oldest  friends, 
who  had  an  annual  cricket-party  for  the  benefit  of  his 
son.  Amongst  the  schoolboy  eleven  staying  in  the 
house  was  a  tall  and  very  thin  lad  of  sixteen,  who 
showed  great  promise  as  a  bowler.  My  hostess  told 
me  that  this  boy  was  suffering  from  tuberculosis,  that 
he  had  had  to  leave  Eton  at  fifteen  to  undergo  a  very 
severe  internal  operation  from  which  he  had  only 
just  recovered,  and  that  when  the  party  broke  up,  he 
was  going  straight  into  a  nursing-home  to  prepare 
for  another  equally  severe  operation.  Every  time  he 
played  cricket  he  had  to  be  put  to  bed  at  once  after 
the  match,  and  to  be  fed  on  warm  milk.  The  lad  had 
tremendous  pluck ;  in  spite  of  his  weakness  he  insisted 
on  taking  part  in  the  games  and  amusements  of  the 
other  boys,  and  proved  very  good  at  all  of  them. 

Three  years  later  I  met  the  S.B.  again.  He  had 
spent  the  interval  entirely  in  sanatoria  and  nursing- 
homes,  except  for  a  few  months  at  St.  Moritz  in  the 


274  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

Engadine,  and  had  undergone  six  major  operations, 
the  last  one  entailing  the  removal  of  his  left  ear, 
though  the  external  ear  had  been  left.  The  unfor- 
tunate lad,  who  seemed  to  have  had  most  of  the  work- 
ing "spare  parts"  of  his  anatomy  removed,  was  a  walk- 
ing triumph  of  modern  operative  surgery,  but  his  dis- 
ease had  clearly  made  advances.  He  was  then  living 
in  an  open-air  hut  at  his  father's  place,  and  his  con- 
dition was  obviously  critical.  As  I  was  myself  going 
to  South  Africa,  I  proposed  to  his  father  (he  had  lost 
his  mother  as  a  child)  that  the  boy  should  accompany 
me,  pointing  out  the  wonders  the  dry  South  African 
climate  had  effected  in  similar  cases,  and  the  advan- 
tages of  a  long  sea-voyage.  So  it  was  settled.  As  I 
was  fully  alive  to  the  responsibilities  I  was  incurring 
I  took  my  valet  with  me,  in  case  additional  help 
should  be  required.  Billy,  the  S.B.,  came  on  board, 
long,  lanky,  and  pitiably  emaciated.  His  abnormally 
brilliant  colour,  and  his  unnaturally  bright  eyes  be- 
trayed the  progress  the  disease  had  made  with  him. 
He  revived  at  once  in  the  warmth,  and  I  had  consid- 
erable difficulty  in  restraining  his  super-abundant  vi- 
tality, for  he  played  deck-cricket  all  day,  and  entered 
himself  for  every  single  event  in  the  ship's  sports,  re- 
gardless of  his  very  narrow  available  margin  of 
strength.  After  arriving  in  Africa,  as  the  S.B.  could 
not  have  stood  the  noise  and  racket  of  a  big  hotel,  we 
found  most  comfortable  quarters  in  a  quiet  little  place 
in  the  delightful  suburb  of  Rondebosch.  I  wished  to 
go  up-country,  and  as  it  was  obvious  that  the  S.B. 
could  never  have  stood  the  heat,  fatigue,  and  dust  of 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  275 

long  railway  journeys  during  the  height  of  the  South 
African  summer,  I  found  myself  in  a  difficult  posi- 
tion. I  had  the  most  stringent  directions  from  the 
doctors  as  to  what  the  S.B.  might  or  might  not  do. 
He  was  on  no  account  to  ride,  either  a  horse  or  a  bi- 
cycle ;  bathing  might  prove  instantly  fatal  to  him ;  he 
was  only  to  play  cricket,  golf,  or  lawn-tennis  in  strict 
moderation,  followed  each  time  by  a  compulsory  rest. 
I  knew  the  S.B.  well  enough  by  now  to  realise  that, 
the  moment  my  back  was  turned,  he  would  want  to  do 
all  these  things,  if  merely  to  show  that  he  could  do 
them  as  well  as  anybody  else,  quite  regardless  of  con- 
sequences. Mrs.  Botha  came  to  the  rescue,  and  with 
extraordinary  kindness,  told  me  to  send  the  S.B.  to 
Groote  Schuur,  where  she  would  undertake  to  look 
after  him.  As  I  have  hinted  earlier,  I  have  seldom 
come  across  so  delightful  a  family  as  the  Bothas, 
father,  mother,  sons  and  daughters  alike ;  so  fortunate 
Billy  the  S.B.  was  transferred  with  his  belongings  to 
Groote  Schuur,  where  he  was  immensely  elated  at  be- 
ing allowed  to  use  Cecil  Rhodes'  sumptuous  private 
bathroom.  This  bathroom  was  entirely  lined  with 
Oriental  alabaster;  the  bath  itself  was  carved  out  of 
a  solid  block  of  green  marble,  and  the  very  bath- 
taps  were  exquisitely  chiselled  bronze  Tritons,  riding 
on  dolphins.  When  I  returned  to  Capetown  I  found 
the  S.B.  quite  one  of  the  Botha  family,  being  ad- 
dressed by  everybody  by  his  Christian  name.  He 
played  lawn-tennis  and  billiards  daily  with  the  Gen- 
eral, and  should  he  prove  refractory  (a  not  infrequent 
occurrence)  the  General  had  only  to  threaten,  "I  shall 


276  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

have  to  make  you  smoke  another  of  my  black  cigars, 
Billy,"  for  the  S.B.  to  capitulate  instantly  with  a 
shudder,  for  he  had  gruesome  recollections  of  the 
effects  one  of  these  powerful  home-grown  cigars  had 
produced  on  him  upon  a  previous  occasion. 

When  we  sailed  from  South  Africa,  Mrs.  Botha 
came  down  herself  to  the  liner  to  see  that  Billy's  cabin 
was  comfortable,  and  that  he  had  all  the  appliances 
he  required,  such  as  hot-water  bottles,  etc.,  and  she 
presented  him  with  a  large  parcel  of  home-made  deli- 
cacies for  his  exclusive  use  on  the  voyage  home.  Noth- 
ing could  have  exceeded  her  kindness  to  this  afflicted 
lad,  of  whose  very  existence  she  had  been  unaware 
three  months  earlier. 

Before  we  had  been  at  sea  a  week,  the  S.B.  man- 
aged to  get  a  sunstroke.  He  grew  alarmingly  ill,  and 
the  ship's  doctor  told  me  that  he  had  developed  tuber- 
cular meningitis,  and  that  his  recovery  was  impos- 
sible. I  gave  the  S.B.  a  hint  as  to  the  gravity  of  his 
case,  but  the  boy's  pluck  was  indomitable.  "I  am  go- 
ing to  sell  that  doctor,"  he  said,  "for  I  don't  mean  to 
die  now.  I  have  sold  the  doctors  twice  already  when 
they  told  me  I  was  dying,  and  I  am  going  to  make 
this  chap  look  silly,  too,  for  I  don't  intend  to  go 
out."  Soon  after  he  relapsed  into  unconsciousness. 
Meningitis  affects  the  eyes,  and  the  poor  S.B.  could 
not  bear  one  ray  of  light,  so  the  cabin  was  carefully 
darkened,  and  the  electrician  replaced  the  white  bulbs 
in  the  cabin  and  alley-way  with  green  ones.  As  we 
were  approaching  the  equator  the  heat  in  that  closed- 
up  cabin  was  absolutely  suffocating,  the  thermometer 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  277 

standing  at  over  100  degrees.  Still  the  sick  lad  felt 
chilly,  and  had  to  be  surrounded  with  hot-water  bot- 
tles, whilst  an  ice-pack  was  placed  on  his  head.  I  and 
my  valet  took  it  in  turns  to  sit  up  at  nights  with  him, 
as  every  quarter  of  an  hour  we  had  to  trickle  a  tea- 
spoonful  of  iced  milk  and  brandy  into  his  mouth.  As 
each  morning  came  round,  the  doctor's  astonishment 
at  finding  his  patient  still  alive  was  obvious,  and  he 
assured  me  again  and  again  that  it  could  only  be  a 
question  of  hours.  One  morning  my  valet,  whose  turn 
as  night-nurse  it  was,  awoke  me  at  4  a.m  with  the 
news  that  "Mr.  William  has  come  to  again,  and  is 
screaming  for  beef -tea."  I  went  into  the  cabin,  where 
I  found  the  S.B.  quite  conscious,  and  insistently  de- 
manding beef -tea.  By  sheer  grit  and  force  of  will  the 
lad  had  pulled  himself  out  of  the  very  Valley  of  the 
Shadow.  We  got  him  the  best  substitute  for  beef- 
tea  to  be  obtained  on  a  liner  at  4.30  a.m.,  and  two 
hours  later  he  was  clamouring  for  more.  His  prog- 
ress to  recovery  was  uninterrupted  as  soon  as  we  were 
able  to  carry  him  into  the  open  air,  his  eyes  protected 
by  some  most  ingenious  light-proof  goggles,  cleverly 
fashioned  on  board  by  the  second  engineer.  The  S.B. 
had  learnt  from  the  doctor  of  some  strictly  private 
arrangements  which  I  had  made  with  the  captain  of 
the  ship  should  his  disease  unfortunately  take  a  fatal 
turn.  I  found  him  one  morning  rolling  about  in  his 
bunk  with  laughter.  "It  is  really  the  most  comical 
idea  I  ever  heard  of  in  my  life,"  he  spluttered,  shak- 
ing with  merriment.  "Fancy  carrying  me  home  in 
the  meat-safe!  Just  imagine  father's  face  when  you 


278  HERE;  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

told  him  that  you  had  got  me  down  in  the  refrigera- 
tor! I  never  heard  anything  so  d d  funny,"  and 

as  fresh  humorous  possibilities  of  this  novel  form  of 
home-coming  occurred  to  him,  he  grew  quite  hysteri- 
cal with  laughter.  He  was  immensely  amused,  too,  at 
learning  that  during  the  most  critical  period  of  his 
illness  I  had  got  the  captain  to  stop  the  ship's  band, 
and  to  rope-off  the  deck  under  his  cabin  window.  I 
will  not  deny  that  the  S.B.  required  a  good  deal  of 
supervision;  for  instance,  when  at  length  allowed  a 
little  solid  food,  I  found  that  he  had  selected  as  a 
suitable  invalid  repast,  some  game-pie  and  a  straw- 
berry ice,  which  had,  of  course,  to  be  sternly  vetoed; 
he  had  entered,  too,  for  every  event  in  the  ship's  sports, 
and  though  he  was  so  weak  that  he  could  barely  stand, 
he  had  every  intention  of  competing.  I  have  seldom 
met  any  one  with  such  wonderful  personal  courage  as 
that  boy,  and  he  would  never  yield  one  inch  to  his 
enemy;  the  strong  will  was  for  ever  dominating  the 
frail  body. 

On  this  voyage  we  had  a  number  of  young  people 
on  board  who  were  crossing  the  equator  for  the  first 
time,  so  Neptune  kindly  offered  to  leave  his  ocean 
depths  and  to  board  the  ship  in  the  good  old-fashioned 
orthodox  style  to  further  these  young  folks'  education. 
Just  as  we  crossed  the  Line,  the  ship  was  hailed  from 
the  sea,  her  name  and  destination  were  ascertained, 
and  she  was  peremptorily  ordered  to  heave  to,  Nep- 
tune naturally  imagining  that  he  was  still  dealing 
with  sailing  ships.  The  engines  were  at  once  stopped, 
and  Neptune,  with  his  Queen,  his  Doctor,  his  Bar- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  279 

ber,  his  Sea  Bears  and  the  rest  of  his  Court,  all  in 
their  traditional  get-up,  made  their  appearance  on  the 
upper  deck,  to  the  abject  terror  of  some  of  the  little 
children,  who  howled  dismally  at  this  alarming  irrup- 
tion of  half -naked  savages  with  painted  faces.  I  my- 
self enacted  Neptune  in  an  airy  costume  of  fish-scales, 
a  crown,  and  a  flowing  beard  and  wig  of  bright  sea- 
green.  Of  course  my  Trident  had  not  been  forgot- 
ten. Amphitrite,  my  queen,  was  the  star-comedian  of 
the  South  African  music-hall  stage,  and  the  little  man 
was  really  extraordinarily  funny,  keeping  up  one  in- 
cessant flow  of  rather  pungent  gag,  and  making  the 
spectators  roar  with  laughter.  All  the  traditional 
ceremonies  and  good-natured  horseplay  were  scrupu- 
lously adhered  to,  and  some  twenty  schoolboys  and 
five  adults  were  duly  dosed,  lathered,  shaved,  hosed, 
and  then  toppled  backwards  into  a  huge  canvas  tank 
of  sea-water,  where  the  boys  persisted  in  swimming 
about  in  all  their  clothes.  The  proceedings  were  ter- 
minated by  Neptune  and  his  entire  Court  following 
the  neophytes  into  the  tank,  and  I  am  afraid  that  we 
induced  some  half-dozen  male  spectators  to  accom- 
pany us  into  the  tank  rather  against  their  will,  one 
old  German  absolutely  fuming  with  rage  at  the  un- 
precedented liberty  that  was  being  taken  with  him. 
During  these  revels  the  S.B.,  though  only  just  con- 
valescent, and  still  in  his  bunk,  had  to  be  locked  into 
his  cabin,  or  he  would  have  insisted  on  taking  part  in 
them,  and  would  have  certainly  died  an  hour  after- 
wards. 

Upon  the  outbreak  of  war  in  August,  1914,  the 


280  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

S.B.  made  three  attempts  to  obtain  a  commission,  only 
to  be  promptly  rejected  by  the  medical  officers  when 
they  examined  him.  He  then  tried  to  enlist  as  a 
private,  under  a  false  name,  but  no  doctor  would  pass 
him,  so  he  went  as  a  workman  into  a  Small  Arms'  Fac- 
tory, and  made  rifle-stocks  for  a  year.  The  indoor 
life  and  the  lack  of  fresh  air  aggravating  his  disease, 
he  was  forced  to  abandon  this  work,  when,  by  some 
means  which  I  have  never  yet  fathomed,  he  managed 
to  get  a  commission  in  the  Royal  Air  Force.  The 
doctors,  being  much  overworked,  let  him  through  with- 
out a  medical  examination,  and  in  due  time  the  S.B. 
qualified  as  a  pilot,  when,  owing  to  engine  trouble, 
he  promptly  crashed  in  his  seaplane  into  the  North 
Sea,  in  January,  and  was  an  hour  in  the  water  before 
being  rescued.  This  icy  bath  somehow  arrested  the 
progress  of  his  disease,  and  he  was  subsequently  sent 
to  the  Dardanelles.  Here,  whilst  attempting  to  bomb 
Constantinople,  the  S.B.  got  shot  down  and  cap- 
tured by  the  Turks.  During  his  eighteen  months  of 
captivity  he  underwent  the  greatest  privations  from 
cold  and  hunger,  being  insufficiently  clad  and  most  in- 
sufficiently fed.  Upon  his  release  after  the  Armis- 
tice, he  was  examined  by  a  British  doctor,  who  told 
him,  to  his  amazement,  that  every  trace  of  his  dire 
disease  had  vanished,  nor  were  the  most  eminent  spe- 
cialists of  Harley  Street  subsequently  able  to  dis- 
tinguish the  faintest  lingering  signs  of  tuberculosis. 
He  was  completely  cured,  or  rather  by  his  strong  will- 
power he  had  completely  cured  himself. 

Billy  (the  term  of  S.B.  being  clearly  no  longer  ap- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  281 

plicable)  is  now  married  to  a  pretty  and  charming 
wife;  he  is  the  proud  father  of  a  sturdy  son,  and  is 
putting  on  weight  at  an  alarming  rate,  his  waist- 
coat already  exhibiting  a  convexity  of  outline  that 
would  be  justifiable  only  in  the  case  of  an  alderman. 
He  is  a  partner  in  a  prosperous  West  End  business, 
and  will  be  most  happy  to  book  any  orders  you  may 
give  him  for  wine. 

I  have  purposely  dwelt  at  length  on  the  case  of  the 
S.B.  in  order  to  encourage  other  sufferers  from  this 
disease  to  realise  how  strong  the  personal  factor  is 
in  their  cases,  and  how  much  they  can  help  themselves. 
Here  was  an  apparently  hopeless  case  of  tuberculosis, 
and  yet  a  lad  by  his  indomitable  grit  and  personal 
courage  fought  his  enemy,  continued  to  fight  him, 
and  finally  conquered  him,  all  by  sheer  determina- 
tion never  to  give  in.  Let  others  in  his  position  take 
heart  of  grace  and  continue  the  struggle,  and  may 
they,  too,  rout  their  enemy  as  the  S.B.  did.  Nil  des- 
perandum!  I  may  add  that  an  ice-cold  bath  of  an 
hour  in  the  North  Sea  in  January,  and  eighteen 
months'  incarceration  in  a  Turkish  prison,  are  not  ab- 
solutely essential  items  in  the  cure. 


CHAPTER  X 

In  France  at  the  outbreak  of  war — The  tocsin — The  "Voice  of 
the  Bell"  at  Harrow — Canon  Simpson's  theory  about  bells — 
His  "five-tone"  principle — Myself  as  a  London  policeman — 
Experiences  with  a  celebrated  church  choir — The  "Grill- 
room Club" — Famous  members — Arthur  Cecil — Some  neat 
answers — Sir  Leslie  Ward — Beerbohm  Tree  and  the  vain 
old  member — Amateur  supers — Juvenile  disillusionment — 
The  Knight — The  Baron — Age  of  romance  passed. 

IN  July,  1914, 1  was  in  Normandy,  undergoing  medi- 
cal treatment  for  a  bad  leg.  Black  as  the  horizon 
looked  towards  the  end  of  that  month,  I  personally 
believed  that  the  storm  would  blow  over,  and  that  the 
clouds  would  disperse,  as  had  happened  so  often  pre- 
viously when  the  relations  between  Germany  and 
France  had  been  strained  almost  to  the  breaking-point 
by  the  megalomaniac  of  Potsdam. 

On  the  fateful  Saturday,  August  1,  1914,  I  was  at 
a  little  old  Norman  chateau  standing  on  the  banks  of 
the  placid  river  Mayenne.  It  was  a  glorious  after- 
noon, and  I  was  in  a  boat  on  the  river  fishing  with  the 
two  daughters  of  the  house.  We  suddenly  saw  the 
local  station-master  running  along  the  bank  in  a  state 
of  great  agitation,  brandishing  a  telegram  in  his  hands. 
He  asked  us  where  he  could  find  "M.  le  Maire,"  for 
my  host,  amongst  other  things,  was  mayor  of  the 
little  neighbouring  town,  and  added  with  a  despairing 
gesture,  "Helas!  C'est  la  guerre!"  showing  us  the 
official  telegram  from  Paris.  We  at  once  landed  and 

282 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  283 

accompanied  the  station-master  up  to  the  house,  where 
our  host  was  dumbfounded  at  the  news,  for,  like  me, 
he  had  continued  to  hope  against  hope.  Five  minutes 
later  he  was  knotting  the  official  tricolour  scarf  round 
his  waist,  for  it  fell  to  his  duty  as  Maire  to  read  the 
Decree  of  Mobilisation  in  the  town,  and  I  accom- 
panied him  there.  I  shall  never  forget  that  sight. 
Sobbing  and  weeping  women  everywhere;  the  older 
men,  who  remembered  1870  and  knew  what  this  mobi- 
lisation meant,  endeavouring  to  master  their  emotion 
and  to  keep  up  an  appearance  of  calm;  the  younger 
men,  who  were  to  be  thrust  into  the  furnace,  standing 
dazed  and  anxious-eyed  at  the  prospect  of  the  un- 
known to-morrow  which  they  were  to  face.  My  host, 
after  reading  the  Decree,  added  a  few  words  of  his 
own,  such  words  as  appeal  to  the  French  tempera- 
ment ;  brief,  full  of  hope  and  courage,  and  breathing 
that  intensely  passionate  love  of  France  which  lies  at 
the  bottom  of  every  French  soul.  The  Maire  then  or- 
dered the  tocsin  to  be  sounded  in  half  an  hour's  time, 
when  it  would  also  ring  out  from  every  church  steeple 
in  France. 

The  rolling  Normandy  landscape  lay  bathed  in 
golden  sunshine,  the  wheatfields  ripe  for  the  sickle, 
and  the  apple,  orchards  rich  in  their  promise  of  fruit. 
There  was  not  one  breath  of  wind  to  ruffle  the  sleek 
surface  of  the  Mayenne,  and  the  wealth  of  timber  of 
leafy  Normandy  stood  out  faintly  blue  over  the  tawny 
stretches  of  the  wheatfields.  The  whole  scene,  flooded 
with  mellow  sunshine,  seemed  to  breathe  absolute 
peace. 


284  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

Suddenly,  from  a  distant  church  steeple,  came  two 
sharp  strokes  from  a  bell,  then  a  pause,  and  then  two 
strokes  were  repeated.  The  town  we  had  just  left 
rang  out  two  louder  notes,  also  followed  by  a  pause. 
It  was  the  tocsin  ringing  out  its  terrible  message ;  and 
yet  another  steeple  sounded  its  two  notes,  and  another 
and  another.  The  news  rung  out  by  those  two  sharp 
strokes  is  always  bad  news.  The  tocsin  rings  for  great 
fires,  for  revolution,  or,  as  in  this  case,  for  a  Declara- 
tion of  War.  Before  us  lay  Normandy,  looking  inex- 
pressibly peaceful  in  the  evening  sunlight,  and  over 
that  quiet  countryside  the  tocsin  was  sending  its  tid- 
ings of  woe,  as  it  was  from  every  church  tower  in 
France.  Next  morning  the  only  son,  the  gardener, 
the  coachman,  and  the  man-servant  left  the  old  Nor- 
man chateau  to  join  their  regiments;  the  son  and  the 
gardener  never  to  return  to  it.  To  the  end  of  my 
life  I  shall  remember  the  weeping  women,  and  the 
haggard-eyed  men  in  that  little  town,  and  the  two 
sharp  strokes  of  the  tocsin,  sounding  like  the  knell 
of  hope. 

Nothing  can  carry  a  more  poignant  message  than 
a  bell.  In  my  time  at  Harrow,  should  a  member  of 
the  school  actually  die  at  Harrow  during  the  term,  the 
school  bell  was  tolled  at  minute  intervals,  from  10 
to  10.30  p.m.,  with  the  great  bass  bell  of  the  parish 
church  answering  it,  also  at  minute  intervals.  The 
school  bell,  which  rang  daily  at  least  ten  times  for 
school,  for  chapel,  for  Bill,  or  for  lock-up,  had  an 
exceedingly  piercing  voice.  We  were  used  to  hear- 
ing it  rung  quickly,  so  when  it  sent  out  its  one  shrill 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  285 

note  into  the  unaccustomed  night,  a  note  answered  in 
half  a  minute  by  the  great  boom  of  the  bourdon  from 
the  Norman  church  steeple,  the  effect  was  most  im- 
pressive. In  my  house  it  was  the  custom  to  keep  ab- 
solute silence  during  the  tolling  of  the  passing-bell. 
The  British  schoolboy  is  really  a  highly  emotional 
creature,  though  he  would  sooner  die  than  betray  the 
fact.  When  the  tolling  began,  boys  would  troop  in 
their  night-clothes  into  one  another's  rooms  for  com- 
panionship, and  remain  there  in  silence,  ill  at  ease, 
until  the  tolling,  to  every  one's  relief,  ceased.  There 
was  another  ordeal  to  be  faced,  too,  at  the  final  con- 
cert. Amongst  our  school  songs  was  one  called  "The 
Voice  of  the  Bell,"  describing  the  various  occasions 
on  which  the  school  bell  rang.  It  had  a  bright,  cheery 
tune,  and  was  very  popular,  but  there  was  a  special 
verse,  only  sung  when  a  boy  had  actually  died  at  Har- 
row during  the  term.  The  melody  of  the  special  verse 
was  the  same  as  that  of  the  other  verses,  but  the  har- 
monies were  quite  different.  It  was  sung  very  slowly 
as  a  solo  to  organ  accompaniment,  and  it  touched 
every  one.  The  words  were: 

"Hark  to  the  stroke,  another  and  another, 

Ding,  ding,  ding. 
Tolling  at  night  for  the  passing  of  a  brother, 

Ding,  ding,  ding, 

One  more  life  from  our  life  is  taken, 
Work  all  done,  and  fellowship  forsaken, 
Playmate  sleep — and  far  away  awaken, 

Ding,  ding,  ding;" 

the  "ding,  ding,  ding"  being  taken  up  by  the  chorus. 
All  the  boys  dreaded  the  singing  of  this  verse,  at 


286  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

least  I  know  that  I  did,  for  no  one  felt  quite  sure  of 
himself,  and  the  little  fellows  cried  quite  openly. 
Three  times  it  was  sung  during  my  Harrow  days, 
and  always  by  the  same  boy,  chosen  on  account  of  his 
very  sweet  voice.  He  was  a  friend  of  mine,  and  he 
used  to  tell  me  how  thankful  he  was  to  get  through 
his  solo  without  breaking  down,  or,  as  he  preferred 
to  put  it,  "without  making  an  utter  ass  of  myself." 
I  think  that  this  special  verse  is  no  longer  sung,  as 
being  too  painful  for  all  concerned. 

Whilst  on  the  subject  of  bells,  I  may  say  that  the 
late  Canon  Simpson  of  Fittleworth  was  a  great  friend 
of  mine.  Canon  Simpson  was  an  enthusiast  about 
bells,  not  only  about  "change-ringing,"  on  which  sub- 
ject he  was  a  recognised  authority,  but  also  about  the 
designing  and  casting  of  bells.  He  would  talk  to 
me  for  hours  about  them,  though  I  know  about  as 
much  of  bells  as  Nebuchadnezzar  knew  about  jazz- 
dancing.  The  Canon  maintained  that  very  few  bells, 
either  in  England  or  on  the  continent,  were  in  tune 
with  themselves,  and  therefore  could  obviously  not  be 
in  tune  with  the  rest  of  the  peal.  Every  bell  gives 
out  five  tones.  The  note  struck,  or  the  "tonic"  (which 
he  called  the  "fundamental"),  the  octave  above  it, 
termed  the  "nominal,"  and  the  octave  below  it,  which 
he  called  the  "hum  note."  In  a  perfect  bell  these  three 
octaves  must  be  in  perfect  unison,  but  they  very  sel- 
dom are.  The  "nominal,"  or  upper  octave,  is  nearly 
always  sharper  than  the  "fundamental,"  and  the  "hum 
note"  is  again  sharper  than  that,  thus  producing  an 
unpleasant  effect.  Any  one  listening  for  it  can  de- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  287 

tect  the  upper  octave,  or  "nominal,"  even  in  a  little 
handbell.  Let  them  listen  intently,  and  they  will  catch 
the  sharp  "ting"  of  the  octave  above.  The  "hum  note" 
in  a  small  bell  is  almost  impossible  to  hear,  but  let  any 
one  listen  to  a  big  bass  bell,  and  they  cannot  miss  it. 
It  is  the  "hum  note"  which  sustains  the  sound,  and 
makes  the  air  quiver  and  vibrate  with  pulsations.  For 
many  years  I  have  lived  under  the  very  shadow  of 
Big  Ben,  and  I  can  hear  its  "hum  note"  persisting 
for  at  least  ten  seconds  after  the  bell  has  sounded. 
Big  Ben  is  a  notable  instance  of  a  bell  out  of  tune 
with  itself.  In  addition  to  the  three  octaves,  every 
bell  gives  out  a  "third"  and  a  "fifth"  above  the  tonic, 
thus  making  a  perfect  chord,  and  for  the  bell  to  be 
perfect,  all  these  five  tones  must  be  in  absolute  tune 
with  each  other.  Space  prevents  my  giving  details  as 
to  how  this  result  can  be  attained.  Under  the  Canon's 
tuition  I  learnt  to  distinguish  the  "third,"  which  is 
at  times  quite  strident,  but  the  "fifth"  nearly  always 
eludes  me.  During  Canon  Simpson's  lifetime  he 
could  only  get  one  firm  of  bell-founders  to  take  his 
"five-tone"  principle  seriously.  I  may  add  that  Eng- 
lish bell-founders  tune  their  bells  to  the  "nominal," 
whilst  Belgian  and  other  continental  founders  tune 
them  to  the  "fundamental,"  both,  according  to  Canon 
Simpson,  essentially  wrong  in  principle. 

Three  days  ago  I  read  a  leading  article  in  a  great 
morning  daily,  headed  "The  Renascence  of  bell-found- 
ing in  England,"  and  I  learnt  from  it  that  one  Eng- 
lish bell-foundry  was  casting  a  great  peal  of  bells  for 
the  War  Memorial  at  Washington,  and  that  another 


288  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

firm  was  carrying  out  an  order  for  a  peal  from,  won- 
der of  wonders,  Belgium  itself,  the  very  home  of  bells, 
and  that  both  these  peals  were  designed  on  the  "Simp- 
son five-tone  principle."  I  wish  that  my  old  friend 
could  have  lived  to  see  his  theories  so  triumphantly 
vindicated,  or  could  have  known  that  the  many  years 
which  he  devoted  to  his  special  subject  were  not  in 
vain. 

Had  any  one  told  me,  say  in  1912,  that  in  two  years' 
time  I  should  be  patrolling  the  streets  of  London  at 
night  in  a  policeman's  uniform  as  a  Special  Constable, 
I  should  have  been  greatly  surprised,  and  should  have 
been  more  astonished  had  I  known  of  the  extraordi- 
nary places  I  should  have  to  enter  in  the  course  of  my 
duties,  and  the  curious  people  with  whom  I  was  to  be 
brought  into  contact.  I  had  occasion  one  night,  whilst 
on  my  beat,  to  enter  the  house  of  a  professional  man 
in  Harley  Street,  whose  house,  in  defiance  of  the 
"Lighting  Orders,"  was  blazing  like  the  Eddystone 
Lighthouse.  I  gave  the  doctor  a  severe  lecture,  and 
pointed  out  that  he  was  rendering  himself  liable  to  a 
heavy  fine.  He  took  my  jobation  in  very  good  part, 
for  I  trust  that  as  a  policeman  I  blended  severity  with 
sympathy,  and  promised  to  amend  his  ways,  and  then 
added  hospitably,  "As  perhaps  you  have  been  out 
some  time,  constable,  you  might  be  glad  of  some  sand- 
wiches and  a  glass  of  beer.  If  you  will  go  down  to 
the  kitchen,  I  will  tell  the  cook  to  get  you  some."  So 
down  I  went  to  the  kitchen,  and  presently  found  my- 
self being  entertained  by  an  enormously  fat  cook. 
John  Leech's  Pictures  from  Punch  have  been  familiar 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

to  me  since  my  earliest  days.  Some  of  his  most  stereo- 
typed jokes  revolved  round  the  unauthorised  presence 
of  policemen  in  kitchens,  but  in  my  very  wildest 
dreams  it  had  never  occurred  to  me  that  I,  myself, 
when  well  past  my  sixtieth  year,  would  find  myself 
in  a  policeman's  uniform  seated  in  a  London  kitchen, 
being  regaled  on  beer  and  sandwiches  by  a  corpulent 
cook,  and  making  polite  conversation  to  her.  I  hasten 
to  disclaim  the  idea  that  any  favourable  impression 
I  may  have  created  on  the  cook  was  in  any  way  due 
to  my  natural  charm  of  manner;  it  was  wholly  to  be 
ascribed  to  the  irresistible  attraction  the  policeman's 
uniform  which  I  was  wearing  traditionally  exercises 
over  ladies  of  her  profession.  Between  ourselves,  my 
brother  Claud  was  so  pleased  with  his  Special  Con- 
stable's uniform  that  when  a  presentation  portrait  of 
himself  was  offered  to  him  he  selected  his  policeman's 
uniform  to  be  painted  in,  in  preference  to  that  of  a  full 
colonel,  to  which  he  was  entitled,  and  his  portrait  can 
now  be  seen,  as  a  white-haired  and  white-moustached, 
but  remarkably  erect  and  alert  Special  Constable, 
seventy-five  years  old. 

I  had  during  the  war  another  novel  but  most  inter- 
esting experience.  A  certain  well-known  West  End 
church  has  been  celebrated  for  over  fifty  years  for 
the  beauty  and  exquisite  finish  of  its  musical  Services. 
As  1915  gave  place  to  1916,  one  by  one  the  profes- 
sional choir-men  got  called  up  for  military  service, 
and  finally  came  the  turn  of  the  organist  and  choir- 
master himself,  he  being  just  inside  the  limit  of  age. 
The  organist,  besides  being  a  splendid  musician,  hap- 


290  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

pened  to  be  a  skilled  mechanic,  so  he  was  not  sent 
abroad,  but  was  given  a  commission,  and  sent  down  to 
Aldershot  to  superintend  the  assembling  of  aircraft 
engines.  By  getting  up  at  5  a.m.  on  Sundays,  he  was 
able  to  be  in  London  in  time  to  take  the  organ  and 
conduct  the  choir  of  his  church.  Meeting  the  organist 
in  the  street  one  day,  he  told  me  that  he  was  in  despair, 
for  all  the  men  of  the  choir  but  two  had  been  called 
up,  and  the  results  of  ten  years'  patient  labour  seemed 
crumbling  away.  He  meant,  though,  to  carry  on 
somehow,  all  the  same,  and  begged  me  to  find  him 
a  bass  for  the  Cantoris  side.  I  have  hardly  any  voice 
at  all  myself,  but  I  had  been  used  to  singing  in  a 
choir,  and  can  read  a  part  easily  at  sight,  so  I  volun- 
teered as  a  bass,  and  for  two  years  marched  in  twice, 
and  occasionally  three  times,  every  Sunday  into  the 
church  in  cassock  and  surplice  with  the  choir.  The 
music  was  far  more  elaborate  and  difficult  than  any 
to  which  I  had  been  accustomed,  but  it  was  a  great 
privilege  and  a  great  delight  to  sing  with  a  choir 
trained  to  such  absolute  perfection.  The  organist 
could  only  spare  time  for  one  short  practice  a  week, 
during  which  we  went  through  about  one-third  of  the 
music  we  were  to  sing  on  Sunday,  all  the  rest  had  to 
be  read  at  sight.  Had  not  the  boys  been  so  highly 
trained  it  would  have  been  quite  impossible;  they  lived 
in  a  Resident  Choir  School,  and  were  practised  daily, 
and  never  once  did  they  let  us  down.  I  do  not  think 
that  the  congregation  had  the  faintest  idea  that  half 
the  elaborate  anthems  and  Services  they  were  listen- 
ing to,  though  familiar  to  the  boys,  had  never  been 


HERE,  THERE  AJMU  EVERYWHERE  291 

seen  by  the  majority  of  the  choir-men  until  they  came 
into  church,  and  that  they  were  being  read  at  sight. 
One  particularly  florid  Service,  much  beloved  by  the 
congregation,  was  known  amongst  the  choir  as  "Chu 
Chin  Chow  in  E  flat."    The  organist  always  managed 
somehow  to  produce  a  really  good  solo  tenor,  as  well 
as  an  adequate  second  tenor,  mostly  privates  and 
bluejackets  for  the  time  being,  but  professional  mu- 
sicians in  their  former  life.    It  was  a  point  of  honour 
with  this  scratch-choir  to  endeavour  to  maintain  the 
very  high  musical  standard  of  the  church,  and  I  really 
think  that  we  did  wonders,  for  we  gave  a  very  good 
rendering  of  Cornelius'  beautiful  but  abominably  diffi- 
cult eight-part  unaccompanied  anthem  for  double 
choir,  "Love,  I  give  myself  to  thee,"  after  twenty 
minutes'  practice  of  it,  and  difficult  as  is  the  music, 
we  kept  the  pitch,  and  did  not  drop  one-tenth  of  a 
tone.    At  times,  of  course,  the  scratch-choir  made  mis- 
takes, and  then  the  organ  crashed  out  and  drowned 
us.     The  congregation  imagined  that  the  organist 
was  merely  showing  off  the  power  and  variety  of  tone 
of  his  instrument;  we  knew  better,  and  understood 
that  this  blare  was  to  veil  our  blunder.    It  was  really 
absorbingly  interesting  work.    During  Lent  we  sang, 
unaccompanied,  Palestrina  and  Vittoria,  and  this  six- 
teenth-century polyphonic  music  requires  singing  with 
such  exactitude  that  it  needs  the  utmost  concentration 
and  sustained  attention,  if  the  results  are  to  be  satis- 
factory.    The  organist  was  quite  pleased  with  his 
make-shift  choir;  though,  as  a  thorough  musician,  he 
was  rather  exacting.    At  choir-practice  he  would  say, 


292  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

"Very  nicely  sung,  gentlemen,  so  nicely  that  I  want  it 
all  over  again.     Try  and  do  it  a  little  better  this 
time,  and  with  greater  accuracy,  please."     It  is  the 
custom  in  this  church  to  sing  carols  from  a  chamber 
up  in  the  tower  on  the  three  Sundays  following  Christ- 
mas.   They  are  sung  unaccompanied,  and  almost  in 
a  whisper,  and  the  effect  in  the  church  below  is  really 
entrancing.    To  reach  this  tower-chamber  we  had  to 
mount  endless  flights  of  stairs  to  the  choir-boys' 
dormitory,  and  then  to  clamber  over  their  beds,  and 
squeeze  ourselves  through  an  opening  about  a  foot 
square   (built  as  a  fire-escape  for  the  boys)   in  our 
surplices.    After  negotiating  this  narrow  aperture,  I 
shall  always  sympathise  with  any  camel  attempting 
to  insinuate  itself  through  the  eye  of  a  needle.    In  a 
small,   low-roofed   chamber,   where  there   is   barely 
standing-room  for  twenty  people,  it  is  difficult  even 
for  a  highly  trained  choir  to  do  itself  justice.     The 
low  roof  tends  to  deaden  the  pitch,  and  in  so  confined 
a  space  the  singers  cannot  get  into  that  instinctive 
touch  with  each  other  which  makes  the  difference  be- 
tween a  good  and  a  bad  choir;  still,  people  in  the 
church  below  told  me  that  the  effect  was  lovely.    On 
one  occasion,  owing  to  force  of  circumstances,  it  had 
been  impossible  for  the  men  to  rehearse  the  carols, 
though  the  boys  had  been  well  practised  in  them.  We 
sung  them  at  sight  unaccompanied;  rather  a  musical 
feat  to  do  satisfactorily. 

I  would  not  have  missed  for  anything  my  two 
years'  experience  with  that  church  choir;  every  Sun- 
day it  was  a  renewed  pleasure. 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  293 

During  1915  and  1916  one  got  used  to  meeting 
familiar  friends  in  unfamiliar  garbs,  and  in  a  certain 
delightful  club,  not  a  hundred  miles  from  Leicester 
Square,  which  I  will  veil  under  the  impenetrable  dis- 
guise of  the  "Grill-room  Club,"  I  was  not  surprised 
to  find  two  well-known  and  popular  actors,  the  one  in 
a  naval  uniform,  the  other  in  an  airman's.  I  might 
add  that  the  latter  greatly  distinguished  himself  in 
the  air  during  the  war. 

The  "Grill-room"  is  quite  a  unique  club.  It  con- 
sists of  one  room  only,  a  lofty,  white-panelled  hall, 
with  an  open  timber  roof.  Nearly  every  distinguished 
man  connected  with  the  English  stage  for  the  last 
forty  years  has  been  a  member  of  this  club;  Henry 
Irving,  Charles  Wyndham,  Arthur  Sullivan,  W.  S. 
Gilbert,  George  Grossmith,  Corney  Grain,  George 
Alexander,  Herbert  Beerbohm  Tree,  and  Arthur 
Cecil  are  only  a  few  of  the  celebrities  for  whom  this 
passing  show  is  over,  but  who  were  members  of  the 
club.  It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  give  a  list  of  the 
present  members ;  it  is  enough  to  say  that  it  comprises 
every  prominent  English  actor  of  to-day. 

Arthur  Cecil  had  a  delightful  nature,  with  a  marked 
but  not  unpleasant  "old-maidish"  element  in  it.  For 
instance,  no  mortal  eye  had  ever  beheld  him  without 
a  little  black  handbag.  Wherever  Arthur  Cecil  went 
the  little  bag  went  with  him.  There  was  much  specu- 
lation amongst  his  friends  as  to  what  the  contents 
of  this  mysterious  receptacle  might  be.  Many  people 
averred,  in  view  of  his  notoriously  large  appetite, 
that  it  was  full  of  sandwiches,  in  case  he  should  become 


294  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

smitten  with  hunger  whilst  on  the  stage,  but  he  would 
tell  no  one.  As  I  knew  him  exceedingly  well,  I  begged 
on  several  occasions  to  have  the  secret  of  the  little 
black  bag  entrusted  to  me,  but  he  always  turned  my 
question  aside.  After  his  death,  it  turned  out  that  the 
little  bag  was  a  fully  fitted-up  medicine-chest,  with 
remedies  for  use  in  every  possible  contingency.  Should 
he  have  fancied  that  he  had  caught  a  chill,  a  tea-spoon 
of  this;  should  his  dressing-room  feel  over-hot,  four 
drops  of  that;  should  he  encounter  a  bad  smell,  a 
table-spoonful  of  a  third  mixture.  Poor  Cecil's  in- 
terior must  have  been  like  a  walking  drug-store.  He 
was  quite  inimitable  in  eccentric  character  parts,  his 
"Graves"  in  Money  being  irresistibly  funny,  and  his 
"Baron  Stein"  in  Diplomacy  was  one  of  the  most 
finished  performances  we  are  ever  likely  to  see,  a 
carefully  stippled  miniature,  with  every  little  detail 
carefully  thought  out,  touched  up  and  retouched.  I 
do  not  believe  that  the  English  stage  has  even  seen 
a  finer  ensemble  of  acting  than  that  given  by  Kendal 
as  "Julian  Beauclerc,"  John  Clayton  as  "Henry 
Beauclerc,"  and  Squire  Bancroft  as  "Count  Orloff" 
when  the  piece  was  originally  produced  at  the  Hay- 
market,  in  the  great  "three-men"  scene  in  the  Second 
Act  of  Diplomacy,  the  famous  "Scene  des  trois  hom- 
mes"  of  Sardou's  Dora;  nothing  on  the  French  stage 
could  beat  it.  Arthur  Cecil  bought  a  splendid  fur 
coat  for  his  entrance  as  "Baron  Stein,"  but  after  the 
run  of  the  piece  nothing  would  ever  induce  him  to 
wear  his  fur  coat,  even  in  the  coldest  weather.  He 
was  obsessed  with  the  idea  that  should  Diplomacy 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  295 

ever  be  revived,  his  fur  coat  might  grow  too  shabby 
to  be  used  for  his  first  entrance,  so  it  reposed  per- 
petually and  uselessly  in  camphor.  Arthur  Cecil  was 
cursed  with  the  Demon  of  Irresolution.  I  have  never 
known  so  undecided  a  man;  it  seemed  quite  impossible 
for  him  to  make  up  his  mind.  Sir  Squire  Bancroft 
has  told  us  in  his  Memoirs  how  Cecil,  on  the  night  of 
the  dress  rehearsal  of  Diplomacy,  was  unable  to  decide 
on  his  make-up.  He  used  a  totally  different  make-up 
in  each  of  the  three  acts,  to  the  great  bewilderment  of 
the  audience,  who  were  quite  unable  to  identify  the 
white-moustached  gentleman  of  the  First  Act  with 
the  bald-headed  and  grey -whiskered  individual  of  the 
Second.  This  irresolution  pursued  poor  Cecil  every- 
where. Coming  in  for  supper  to  the  "Grill-room" 
after  his  performance,  he  would  order  and  counter- 
order  for  ten  minutes,  absolutely  unable  to  come  to  a 
decision.  He  invariably  ended  by  seizing  a  pencil, 
closing  his  eyes  tightly,  and  whirling  his  pencil  round 
and  round  over  the  supper-list  until  he  brought  it 
down  at  haphazard  somewhere.  As  may  be  imagined, 
repasts  chosen  in  this  fashion  were  apt  to  be  somewhat 
incongruous.  After  the  first  decision  of  chance,  Cecil 
would  murmur  to  the  patient  waiter,  "Some  apple- 
tart  to  begin  with,  Charles."  Then  another  whirl, 
and  "some  stuffed  tomatoes,"  a  third  whirl,  and  "salt 
fish  and  parsnips,  Charles,  please.  It's  a  thing  that  I 
positively,  detest,  but  it  has  been  chosen  for  me,  so 
bring  it."  Cecil  went  for  an  annual  summer  holiday 
to  France,  but  as  he  could  never  decide  where  he 
should  go,  the  same  method  came  into  play,  and  with 


296  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

a  map  of  France  before  him,  and  tightly  closed  eyes, 
the  whirling  pencil  determined  his  destination  for 
him.  He  assured  me  that  it  had  selected  some  un- 
known but  most  delightful  spots  for  him,  though 
at  times  he  was  less  fortunate.  The  pencil  once  lit 
on  the  mining  districts  of  Northern  France,  and  Cecil 
with  his  sunny  nature  professed  himself  grateful  for 
this,  declaring  that  but  for  the  hazard  of  the  whirling 
pencil,  he  would  never  have  had  an  opportunity  of 
realising  what  unspeakably  revolting  spots  Saletrou- 
sur-Somme,  or  Saint-Andre-Linfecte  were.  He  was 
a  wonderfully  kind-hearted  man.  Once,  whilst  play- 
ing at  the  Court  Theatre,  he  noticed  the  call-boy 
constantly  poring  over  a  book.  Cecil,  glancing  over  it, 
was  surprised  to  find  that  it  was  not  The  Boy  High- 
wayman of  Hampstead,  but  a  treatise  on  Algebra. 
The  call-boy  told  him  that  he  was  endeavouring  to 
educate  himself,  with  a  view  to  going  out  to  India. 
Cecil  bought  him  quite  a  library  of  books,  paid  for  a 
series  of  classes  for  him,  and  eventually,  thanks  to 
Cecil,  the  call-boy  passed  second  in  a  competitive 
examination,  and  obtained  a  well-paid  appointment  in 
a  Calcutta  Bank.  Cecil,  or  to  give  him  his  real  name, 
Arthur  Blount,  was  also  an  excellent  musician,  and 
his  setting  of  The  Better  Land  is  to  my  mind  a  beau- 
tiful one.  He  was  an  eccentric,  faddy,  kindly,  gentle 
creature. 

At  the  "Grill-room,"  actor-managers  are  constantly 
pouring  out  their  woes.  One  well-known  actor- 
manager  came  in  full  of  a  desperate  row  he  had  had 
with  his  leading  lady  because  the  printer  in  the  bills 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  297 

of  the  new  production  had  forgotten  the  all-important 
"and"  before  her  name.  She  merely  appeared  at  the 
end  of  the  list  of  characters,  whereas  she  wanted 
"AND  Miss  Lilian  Vavasour."  "Such  a  ridiculous 
fuss  to  make  about  an  'and,' "  grumbled  the  actor- 
manager.  "Yes,"  retorted  Comyns-Carr,  "and  un- 
fortunately 'and  and  'art  do  not  always  go  together 
on  these  occasions." 

The  neatest  answer  I  ever  heard  came  from  the 
late  Lord  Houghton.  Queen  Victoria's  predilection 
for  German  artists  was  well  known.  She  was  painted 
several  times  by  Winterhalter,  and  after  his  death  was 
induced  by  the  Empress  Frederick  to  give  sittings 
to  the  Viennese  artist,  Professor  von  Angeli.  Angeli's 
portrait  of  the  Queen  was,  I  think,  exhibited  in  the 
Royal  Academy  in  1876.  Some  one  commenting  on 
this,  said  that  it  was  hard  that  the  Queen  would  never 
give  an  English  artist  a  chance;  after  Winterhalter 
it  was  Angeli.  "Yes,"  said  Lord  Houghton,  "I  fancy 
that  the  Queen  agrees  with  Gregory  the  Great,  and 
says,  'non  Angli  sed  Angeli.' ' 

Of  minor  neatness  was  an  answer  made  to  my 
mother  by  a  woodman  at  Baron's  Court.  Apparently 
at  the  time  of  her  marriage  the  common  dog-wood 
was  hardly  known  in  England  as  a  shrub,  although 
in  the  moist  Irish  climate  it  flourished  luxuriantly. 
Every  one  is  familiar  with  the  shrub,  if  only  on  ac- 
count of  its  bark  turning  a  bright  crimson  with  the 
early  frosts.  My  mother  on  her  first  visit  to  Baron's 
Court  saw  a  woodman  trimming  the  dog-wood,  and 
inquired  of  him  the  name  of  this  unfamiliar  red- 


298  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

barked  shrub.  On  being  told  that  it  was  dog-wood  she 
asked,  "Why  is  it  called  dog-wood?"  "It  might  be  on 
account  of  its  bark,"  came  the  ready  answer. 

Pellegrini  the  caricaturist,  the  celebrated  "Ape"  of 
Vanity  Fair,  was  a  member  of  the  "Grill-room,"  as 
is  his  equally  well-known  successor,  Sir  Leslie  Ward, 
the  "Spy"  of  that  now  defunct  paper,  who  has  drawn 
almost  every  notability  in  the  kingdom.  Sir  Leslie  is, 
I  am  glad  to  say,  still  with  us.  Leslie  Ward  has  the 
speciality  of  extraordinary  accidents,  accidents  which 
could  befall  no  human  being  but  himself.  For  in- 
stance, in  pre-taxi  days  Ward  was  driving  in  a  han- 
som, and  the  cabman  taking  a  wrong  turn,  Ward 
pushed  up  the  little  door  in  the  roof  to  stop  him.  The 
man  bent  his  head  down  to  catch  his  fare's  directions, 
and  Leslie  Ward  inadvertently  pushed  three  fingers 
right  into  the  cabman's  mouth.  The  driver,  hotly 
resenting  this  unwarranted  liberty,  bit  Leslie  Ward's 
fingers  so  severely  that  he  was  unable  to  hold  either 
pencil  or  brush  for  a  fortnight.  This  is  only  one 
example  of  the  extraordinary  mishaps  in  which  this 
gifted  artist  specialises. 

In  the  recently  published  Life  of  Herbert  Beer- 
bohm  Tree,  the  collaborators  do  not  allude  to  that 
curious  vein  of  impish  humour  which  at  times  pos- 
sessed him,  turning  him  into  a  sort  of  big  rollicking 
schoolboy.  There  was  one  episode  which  I  can  give 
with  Tree's  actual  words,  for  I  wrote  them  down  at 
the  time,  as  a  supreme  example  of  the  art  of  "leg- 
pulling."  Amongst  the  members  of  the  "Grill-room 
Club"  was  an  elderly  bachelor,  whom  I  will  call  Mr. 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  299 

Smith.  "Mr.  Smith,"  who  has  now  been  dead  for 
some  years,  was  wholly  undistinguished  in  every  way. 
He  ate  largely,  and  spoke  little,  but  Tree  had  dis- 
covered that  under  his  placid  exterior  he  concealed  a 
vein  of  limitless  vanity.  One  evening  "Mr.  Smith" 
startled  the  club  by  breaking  his  habitual  silence, 
and  bursting  into  poetry.  Apropos  of  nothing  at  all, 
he  suddenly  declaimed  two  lines  of  doggerel,  which, 
as  far  as  my  memory  goes,  ran  as  follows : 

"I  and  my  doggie  are  now  left  alone, 
Johnstone,  to-morrow,  will  give  him  a  bone." 

He  then  relapsed  into  his  ordinary  placid  silence, 
and  soon  after  went  home.  Beerbohm  Tree  made  at 
once  a  bet  of  £5  with  another  member  that  he  would 
induce  old  Mr.  Smith  to  repeat  this  rubbish  lying  at 
full  length  under  the  dining-table,  seated  in  the  fire- 
grate (it  was  summer-time),  and  hidden  behind  the 
window-curtains.  The  story  got  about  until  every  one 
knew  of  the  bet  except  Mr.  Smith,  so  next  night  the 
club  was  crowded.  The  unsuspecting  Smith  sat 
silently  and  placidly  ruminating,  when  Tree  appeared 
after  his  performance  at  His  Majesty's  and  lost  no 
time  in  approaching  his  subject.  "My  dear  Smith," 
he  began,  "you  repeated  last  night  two  lines  of  poetry 
which  moved  me  strangely.  The  recollection  of  them 
has  haunted  me  all  day;  say  them  again,  I  beg  of  you." 
The  immensely  gratified  Smith  at  once  began: 

"I  and  my  doggie  are  now  left  alone, 
Johnstone,  to-morrow,  will  give  him  a  bone." 

"Exquisite!"  murmured  Tree.  "Beautiful  lines,  and 
distinctly  modern,  yet  without  the  faintest  trace  of 


300  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

decadence.  It  is  the  note  of  implied  tragedy  in  them 
that  appeals  to  me,  for  were  Johnstone  unfortunately 
to  die  in  the  night  there  would,  of  course,  be  no  bone 
for  the  faithful  four-footed  friend.  Repeat  them 
again,  please."  After  a  second  repetition  Tree  went 
on:  "You  have  I'art  de  dire  to  an  amazing  extent, 
Smith,  and  you  have  the  priceless  gift  of  les  larmes 
dans  la  voix.  I  know  that  no  pecuniary  inducements 
I  might  offer  would  make  any  appeal  to  you;  still, 
could  I  but  get  you  to  repeat  those  beautiful  lines 
on  the  stage  of  my  theatre,  all  London  would  flock 
to  hear  you.  I  should  wish  now  for  them  to  float 
vaguely  to  my  ears,  as  the  sound  of  village  chimes 
borne  on  the  breeze ;  out  of  the  vague ;  out  of  the  un- 
known. Ha!  I  have  it!  Would  you  mind,  Smith, 
lying  under  the  table  here,  and  exercising  your  gift 
as  a  reciter  from  there.  I,  on  my  side,  will  put  myself 
into  a  fitting  frame  of  mind  by  eschewing  such  grossly 
material  things  as  tobacco  and  alcohol,  and  will  eat 
of  the  simple  fruits  of  the  earth.  Waiter,  apples, 
many  apples!  Now,  Smith,  I  beg  of  you,"  and  Tree, 
munching  an  apple,  made  a  gesture  of  appeal,  and 
stood  on  the  table,  a  second  apple  in  his  left  hand. 

"Really  I,"  faltered  Mr.  Smith  with  a  gratified 
smile,  "really  .  .  .  Well  ...  do  you  mean  it?"  and 
he  slid  obediently  under  the  table,  and  repeated  the 
idiotic  lines.  "Gorgeous!  Positively  gorgeous!" 
sighed  Tree.  "Now,  Smith,  Bismarck  once,  when  at 
the  zenith  of  his  power,  electrified  an  audience  of 
German  savants  by  repeating  two  simple  lines  of 
German  poetry  seated  in  the  fireplace.  I  must  em- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  301 

phasise  the  fact  that  it  was  when  he  was  at  the  very 
zenith  of  his  power,  for  otherwise,  of  course,  he  would 
have  been  unable  to  produce  this  effect.  I  should 
like  to  see  whether  your  touching  lines  would  move 
me  as  strongly  coming  from  so  unexpected  a  quarter. 
See!  I  will  place  The  Times  for  you  to  sit  on,  the 
Daily  Telegraph  for  you  to  lean  against.  Two  of  the 
most  powerful  organs  of  public  opinion  both  equally 
proud  to  minister  to  your  comfort.  I  beg  of  you, 
Smith."  "Really  .  .  .  it's  rather  unusual  ...  but  if 
you  want  it,"  smirked  Mr.  Smith,  and  the  doggerel 
was  duly  repeated  from  the  fireplace.  "Now,  Smith, 
I  want  those  haunting  lines  to  reach  me  faintly,  as 
from  some  distant  ocean  cavern,  or  like  the  murmurs 
sea-shells  whisper  into  the  ear.  Ha!  the  window-cur- 
tains will  muffle  the  sound;  say  it  from  behind  them, 
I  pray."  When  this  was  over  Tree  buried  his  face  in 
his  hands,  feigning  deep  emotion,  and  Mr.  Smith  re- 
gained his  place  wreathed  in  smiles,  convinced  that 
he  had  achieved  an  unparalleled  triumph  as  a  reciter, 
but  Tree  had  won  his  £5. 

That  gifted  man  Charles  Brookfield  was  also  a 
member  of  the  "Grill-room."  There  was  a  slight  note 
of  cynicism,  and  a  touch  of  bitterness  in  his  humour, 
for  he  was  quite  conscious  that  he  had  not  achieved 
the  success  that  his  brilliant  abilities  seemed  to  prom- 
ise. It  was  characteristic  of  Brookfield  that  when, 
attacked  with  the  tuberculosis  to  which  he  eventually 
succumbed,  he  should  draw  up  the  prospectus  and 
rules  of  the  "Ninety-nine  Club"  (those  who  have  ever 
had  their  lungs  tested  will  understand  the  allusion) , 


302  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

a  document  in  which  he  gave  full  rein  to  his  vein  of 
cynical  and  slightly  macabre  humour. 

Some  twenty-five  years  ago,  I  and  another  mem- 
ber of  the  "Grill-room  Club"  used  occasionally  to 
"walk-on"  in  the  great  autumn  Drury  Lane  melo- 
dramas. We  knew  the  manager  well,  and  upon  send- 
ing in  our  cards  to  him,  we  could  figure  as  guests 
at  a  ball,  or  as  two  of  the  crowd  on  a  racecourse.  I 
liked  seeing  the  blurred  outlines  of  the  vast  audience 
over  the  dazzling  glare  of  the  footlights,  and  the  de- 
tails of  the  production  of  these  complicated  spectacu- 
lar pieces  amused  me  when  seen  from  the  stage.  In 
one  of  these  melodramas,  I  think  the  Derby  Winner, 
there  was  a  spirited  auction  scene  on  the  stage,  when 
Mrs.  John  Wood  bid  £30,000  for  a  horse.  I  had  an 
almost  irresistible  impulse  to  over-bid  her  and  to 
shout  "forty  thousand  pounds."  Mrs.  John  Wood 
would  have  proved,  I  am  sure,  equal  to  the  emer- 
gency, and  would  have  got  the  better  of  me.  Between 
us,  we  should  probably  have  run  the  horse  up  to  a 
quarter  of  a  million,  and  the  consternation  of  the  rest 
of  the  company  would  have  been  very  amusing  to 
witness,  but  it  would  not  have  been  quite  fair  on  our 
friend  the  manager,  so  I  refrained. 

A  great-nephew  of  mine,  then  an  Eton  boy  of  fif- 
teen, had  heard  of  these  experiences  and  longed  to 
share  them;  so,  with  the  manager's  consent,  I  took 
him  "on"  the  first  day  of  his  holidays.  He  was  one 
of  the  crowd  at  an  imaginary  Oxford  and  Cambridge 
boat-race,  cheering  for  all  he  was  worth,  when  he 
suddenly  saw  four  of  his  Eton  friends  sitting  together 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  303 

in  the  front  row  of  the  stalls,  and  nodded  to  them. 
The  astonishment  of  these  youths  at  seeing  the  boy 
they  had  travelled  up  with  that  morning,  moving 
about  the  stage  of  Drury  Lane  Theatre  as  though  he 
were  quite  at  home  there,  was  most  comical.  They 
gaped  round-eyed,  refusing  to  believe  the  evidence 
of  their  senses. 

I  believe  that  the  appeal  of  the  theatre  is  simply 
due  to  the  fact  that  the  majority  of  human  beings 
retain  the  child's  love  of  "make-believe"  but  are  too 
unimaginative  to  create  a  dream-world  for  themselves. 
Having  lost  the  child's  power  of  creation,  a  more 
material  dream-world  has  to  be  elaborately  con- 
structed for  them,  with  every  adjunct  that  can 
heighten  the  sense  of  illusion,  an  element  the  un- 
imaginative are  unable  to  supply  for  themselves. 
They  require  all  their  "i's"  carefully  dotted  and  their 
"t's"  elaborately  crossed;  so  they  love  "real  water" 
on  the  stage,  and  "real  leaves"  falling  in  a  forest  scene, 
and  genuine  taxi-cabs  rumbling  about  the  stage  so 
realistically  that  no  strain  need  be  put  on  their  imagi- 
nation. 

At  the  age  of  seven  or  eight  I  came  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  one  would  go  through  life  shedding  illusions 
as  trees  shed  their  leaves  in  November.  I  had  an  illus- 
trated History  of  England  which  contained  a  picture 
of  knights  tilting;  splendid  beings  all  in  armour,  with 
plumes  waving  from  their  helmets,  seated  on  armoured 
horses  and  brandishing  gigantic  lances.  I  asked  my 
governess  whether  there  were  any  knights  left.  She, 
an  excellent  but  most  matter-of-fact  lady,  assured  me 


304  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

that  there  were  plenty  of  knights  still  about,  after 
which  I  never  ceased  pestering  her  to  show  me  one. 
One  day  she  delighted  me  by  saying,  "You  want  to  see 
a  knight,  dear.  There  is  one  coming  to  see  your 
father  at  twelve  o'clock  to-day,  and  you  may  stand 
on  the  staircase  and  see  him  arrive."  This  was  an 
absolutely  thrilling  episode!  One  of  these  glorious 
creatures  of  Romance  was  actually  coming  to  our 
house  that  day !  I  may  add  that  my  mother  was  un- 
well at  the  time,  and  that  the  celebrated  doctor  Sir 
William  Jenner,  who  had  then  been  recently  knighted, 
had  been  called  in  for  a  consultation.  At  Chester- 
field House  there  is  a  very  fine  double  flight  of  white 
marble  stairs,  and,  long  before  twelve,  wild  with  ex- 
citement, I  took  my  stand  at  the  top  of  it.  How  this 
magnificent  being's  armour  would  clank  on  the 
marble!  Would  he  wear  a  thing  like  a  saucepan  on 
his  head,  with  a  little  gate  in  front  to  peep  through? 
It  would  be  rather  alarming,  but  the  waving  plumes 
would  look  nice.  Supposing  that  he  spoke  to  me, 
how  was  I  to  address  him?  Perhaps  "Grammercy, 
Sir  Knight!"  would  do.  I  was  rather  hazy  as  to  its 
meaning,  but  it  sounded  well.  It  might  also  be  polite 
to  inquire  how  many  maidens  in  distress  the  knight 
had  rescued  recently.  Would  he  carry  his  lance  up- 
stairs and  leave  it  outside  my  father's  door?  If  so, 
I  could  play  with  it,  and  perhaps  tilt  at  the  footman 
with  it.  Would  he  leave  his  prancing  charger  in  the 
courtyard  in  the  care  of  his  esquire?  The  possibili- 
ties were  really  endless.  Presently  our  family  doctor 
came  upstairs  with  another  gentleman,  and  they  went 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  305 

into  my  father's  room.  I  said  "Good-morning"  to 
our  own  doctor,  but  scarcely  noticed  the  stranger, 
for  I  was  straining  my  ears  to  catch  the  first  clank 
of  the  knight's  armour  on  the  marble  pavement  of 
the  hall  below.  Time  went  on;  our  doctor  and  the 
stranger  reappeared  and  went  downstairs,  and  still  no 
knight  arrived.  At  last  I  went  back  to  my  governess 
and  told  her  that  the  knight  must  have  forgotten, 
for  he  had  never  come.  I  could  have  cried  with  dis- 
appointment when  told  that  the  frock-coated  stranger 
was  the  knight.  That  a  knight !  Without  armour,  or 
plumes,  or  lance,  or  charger!  To  console  me  for  my 
disappointment  I  was  allowed  to  see  my  father  in  his 
full  robes  as  a  Knight  of  the  Garter  before  he  left 
for  some  ceremony  of  the  Order.  This  was  the  first 
intimation  I  had  received  that  we  could  include  a 
knight  in  our  own  family  circle.  My  father's  blue 
velvet  mantle  was  imposing,  and  he  certainly  had 
plumes ;  but  to  my  great  chagrin  he  was  not  wearing 
one  single  scrap  of  armour,  had  no  iron  saucepan  on 
his  head,  and  was  not  even  carrying  a  gigantic  lance. 
It  seemed  to  be  the  same  with  everything  else.  In 
my  illustrated  History  there  was  a  picture  of  the 
Barons  forcing  King  John  to  sign  Magna  Charta  at 
Runnymede.  They  had  beards,  and  wore  long  velvet 
dressing-gowns,  with  lovely,  long,  pointed  shoes,  and 
carried  swords  nearly  as  big  as  themselves.  I  asked 
my  governess  if  there  were  any  barons  left,  and  she 

told  me  that  Lord  B ,  a  great  friend  of  my 

family's,  was  a  baron.  This  was  dreadful.  Lord 
B was  dressed  like  any  one  else,  had  no  beard,* 


306  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

and  instead  of  beautiful  long  shoes  shaped  like  tooth- 
picks, with  flapping,  pointed  toes,  he  had  ordinary 
everyday  boots.  He  never  wore  a  velvet  dressing- 
gown  or  carried  a  big  sword,  and  no  one  could  pos- 
sibly imagine  him  as  coercing  King  John,  or  indeed 
any  one  else,  to  do  anything  they  did  not  want  to  do. 
I  asked  to  see  a  noble;  I  was  told  that  I  met  them 
every  day  at  luncheon.  Like  all  properly  constituted 
boys  I  longed  to  live  on  an  island.  I  was  told  that  I 
already  enjoyed  that  privilege.  It  really  was  a  most 
disappointing  world! 

To  remedy  this  state  of  things,  and  as  a  protest 
against  the  prosaic  age  in  which  we  lived,  my  young- 
est brother  and  I  devised  some  strictly  private  dramas. 
One  dealing  with  the  adventures  of  Sir  Alphonso  and 
the  lovely  Lady  Leonora  lingers  in  my  memory,  and 
I  recall  every  word  of  the  dialogue.  This  latter  was 
peculiar,  for  we  had  an  idea  that  to  be  archaic  all  per- 
sonal pronouns  had  to  be  omitted.  Part  of  it,  I  re- 
member, ran,  "Dost  love  me,  Leonora?'*  "Do." 
"Wilt  fly  with  me?"  "Will."  "Art  frightened,  fair 
one?"  "Am."  Everything  in  this  thrilling  drama  led 
up  to  the  discovery  of  the  hidden  treasure  which  the 
far-seeing  Sir  Alphonso  had  prudently  buried  in  the 
garden  in  case  of  emergencies.  Treasure  had,  of 
course,  to  consist  of  gold,  silver,  and  coin.  Some  one 
had  given  me  a  tiny  gold  whistle;  though  small,  it 
was  unquestionably  of  gold,  and  my  brother  was  the 
proud  possessor  of  a  silver  pencil-case.  These  un- 
fortunate objects  must  have  been  buried  and  disin- 
terred countless  times  in  company  with  a  French 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  307 

franc-piece.  To  the  eye  of  faith  the  whistle  and  the 
pencil-case  became  gleaming  ingots  of  gold  and  silver, 
and  the  solitary  franc  transformed  itself  into  iron- 
bound  chests  gorged  with  ducats,  doubloons,  or  pieces- 
of -eight:  the  last  having  a  peculiarly  attractive  and 
romantic  sound. 

In  such  fashion  did  we  make  our  juvenile  protest 
against  the  drab-coloured  age  into  which  we  had  been 
born. 


CHAPTER  XI 

Dislike  of  the  elderly  to  change — Some  legitimate  grounds  of 
complaint — Modern  pronunciation  of  Latin — How  a  Eu- 
ropean crisis  was  averted  by  the  old-fashioned  method — 
Lord  Dufferin's  Latin  speech — Schoolboy  costume  of  a 
hundred  years  ago — Discomforts  of  travel  in  my  youth — A 
crack  liner  of  the  "eighties" — Old  travelling  carriages — 
An  election  incident — Headlong  rush  of  extraordinary  turn- 
out— The  politically  minded  signalman  and  the  doubtful 
voter — "Decent  bodies" — Confidence  in  the  future — Con- 
clusion. 

To  point  out  that  elderly  people  dislike  change  is  to 
assert  the  most  obvious  of  truisms.  Their  three-score 
years  of  experience  have  taught  them  that  all  changes 
are  not  necessarily  changes  for  the  better,  as  youth 
fondly  imagines;  and  that  experiments  are  not  in- 
variably successful.  They  have  also  learnt  that  no 
amount  of  talk  will  alter  hard  facts,  and  that  the  law 
that  effect  will  follow  cause  is  an  inflexible  one  which 
torrents  of  fluent  platitudes  will  neither  affect  nor 
modify.  Even  should  this  entail  their  being  labelled 
with  the  silly  and  meaningless  term  of  "reactionary," 
I  do  not  imagine  that  their  equanimity  is  much  upset 
by  it.  It  is,  perhaps,  natural  for  the  elderly  to  make 
disparaging  comparisons  between  the  golden  past 
and  the  neutral-tinted  present;  so  that  one  shudders 
at  reflecting  what  a  terrific  nuisance  Methuselah  must 
have  become  in  his  old  age.  One  can  almost  hear 
the  youth  of  his  day  whispering  friendly  warnings 

308 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  30£ 

to  each  other:  "Avoid  that  old  fellow  like  poison, 
for  you  will  find  him  the  most  desperate  bore.  He 
is  for  ever  grousing  about  the  rottenness  of  everything 
nowadays  compared  to  what  it  was  when  he  was  a  boy 
nine  hundred  years  ago." 

What  applies  to  Methuselah  may  apply,  in  a  lesser 
degree,  to  all  of  us  elderly  people,  though  I  think 
that  we  are  justified  when  we  lament  a  noticeable  de- 
cline in  certain  definite  standards  of  honour  which  in 
our  day  were  almost  universally  accepted  both  in 
private  and  in  public  life.  Even  then  some  few  may 
have  bowed  the  knee  at  the  shrine  of  "Monseigneur 
I*  Argent" ;  but  it  was  done  almost  furtively,  for  "peo- 
ple on  the  make,"  or  unblushingly  "out  for  them- 
selves," were  less  to  the  fore  then  than  now,  and  were 
most  certainly  less  conspicuous  in  public  life. 

We  can  also  be  forgiven  for  regretting  a  marked 
decline  in  manners.  Possibly  in  hurried  days  when 
every  one  seems  to  crave  for  excitement,  there  is  but 
little  time  left  for  those  courtesies  customary  amongst 
an  older  generation. 

There  is  no  need  to  enlarge  on  the  immense  changes 
the  years  have  brought  about  during  my  lifetime. 
Amongst  the  very  minor  changes,  I  notice  that  when 
my  great-nephews  quote  any  Latin  to  me,  I  am  un- 
able to  understand  one  single  syllable  of  it,  and  be- 
tween ourselves  I  fancy  that  this  modern  pronuncia- 
tion of  Latin  would  be  equally  unintelligible  to  an 
ancient  Roman. 

Our  old-fashioned  English  pronunciation  of  Latin 
may  have  been  illogical,  but  on  one  occasion  it  helped 


310  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

to  avert  a  European  war.  The  late  Count  Bencken- 
dorff,  the  last  Russian  Ambassador  to  the  Court  of 
St.  James's,  a  singularly  fascinating  man,  was  pro- 
tocolist  to  the  Congress  of  Berlin  in  1878,  and  as  such 
was  present  at  every  sitting  of  the  Congress.  He  told 
me  that  at  one  meeting  of  the  Plenipotentiaries,  Prince 
Gortschakoff  announced  that  Russia,  in  direct  con- 
travention of  Article  XIII  of  the  Treaty  of  Paris  of 
1856,  intended  to  fortify  the  port  of  Batoum.  This 
was  expressly  forbidden  by  the  Treaty  of  Paris,  so 
Lord  Beaconsfield  rose  from  his  chair  and  said  quietly, 
"Casus  belli,"  only  he  pronounced  the  Latin  words 
in  the  English  fashion,  and  Count  Benckendorff  as- 
sured me  that  no  one  present,  with  the  exception  of 
the  British  delegates,  had  the  glimmer  of  an  idea 
of  what  he  was  talking  about.  They  imagined  that 
he  was  making  some  remark  in  English  to  Lord  Salis- 
bury, and  took  no  notice  of  it  whatever.  Lord  Salis- 
bury whispered  to  his  colleague,  and  ultimately  Prince 
Gortschakoff  withdrew  the  claim  to  fortify  Batoum. 
"But,"  added  Count  Benckendorff,  "just  imagine  the 
consternation  of  the  Congress  had  Lord  Beaconsfield 
hurled  his  ultimatum  to  Russia  with  the  continental 
pronunciation  ccahsous  bellee!"  Just  picture  the 
breaking  up  of  the  Congress,  the  frantic  telegrams, 
the  shrieking!  headlines,  the  general  consternation, 
and  the  terrific  results  that  might  have  followed !  And 
all  these  tremendous  possibilities  were  averted  by  our 
old-fashioned  English  pronunciation  of  Latin! 

My  old  Chief  and  godfather,  the  late  Lord  Duf- 
ferin,  in  his  most  amusing  Letters  From  High  Lati- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  311 

iudes,  recounts  how  he  was  entertained  at  a  public 
dinner  at  Reykjavik  in  Iceland  by  the  Danish  Gov- 
ernor. To  his  horror  Lord  Dufferin  found  that  he 
was  expected  to  make  a  speech,  and  his  hosts  asked 
him  to  speak  either  in  Danish  or  in  Latin.  Lord 
Dufferin,  not  knowing  one  word  of  Danish,  hastily  re- 
assembled his  rusty  remnants  of  Latin,  and  began, 
"Insolitus  ut  sum  ad  publicum  loquendum,"  and  in 
proposing  the  Governor's  health,  begged  his  audience, 
amidst  enthusiastic  cheers,  to  drink  it  with  a  "haustu 
longo,  haustu  forti,  simul  atque  haustu." 

Such  are  the  advantages  of  a  classical  education! 

My  younger  relatives,  who  naturally  look  upon  me 
as  being  of  almost  antediluvian  age,  sometimes  ask  me 
to  describe  the  discomforts  of  an  all-night  coach  jour- 
ney in  my  youth,  or  inquire  how  many  days  we  oc- 
cupied in  travelling  from,  say,  London  to  Edinburgh. 
They  are  obviously  sceptical  when  I  assure  them  that 
my  memory  does  not  extend  to  pre-railway  days.  I 
am  surprised  that  they  do  not  ask  me  for  a  few  in- 
teresting details  of  occasions  when  we  were  stopped 
by  masked  highwaymen  on  Hounslow  Heath  in  the 
course  of  our  journeys. 

My  father  told  me  that  when  he  first  went  to  Har- 
row in  September,  1823,  at  the  age  of  twelve,  he  rode 
all  the  way  from  London,  followed  by  a  servant  carry- 
ing his  portmanteau  on  a  second  horse.  My  father's 
dress  sounds  curious  to  modern  ears.  Below  a  jacket 
and  one  of  the  big  flapping  collars  of  the  period,  he 
wore  a  waistcoat  of  crimson  cut-velvet  with  gold  but- 
tons, a  pair  of  skin-tight  pantaloons  of  green  tartan 


312  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

with  Hessian  boots  to  the  knee,  further  adorned  with 
large  brass  spurs  with  brass  chains.  A  schoolboy  of 
twelve  would  excite  some  comment  were  he  to  appear 
dressed  like  that  to-day,  though  my  father  assured 
me  that  he  could  run  in  his  Hessian  boots  and  spurs 
as  fast  as  any  of  his  school-fellows. 

Though  my  recollections  may  not  go  back  to  pre- 
railway  days,  the  conditions  under  which  we  travelled 
in  my  youth  would  be  thought  intolerable  now.  No 
sleeping-  or  dining-cars,  long  night- journeys  in  un- 
heated,  dimly  lit  carriages  devoid  of  any  kind  of  con- 
venience, and  sea-passages  in  small,  ill-equipped 
steamers.  All  these  were  accepted  as  a  matter  of 
course,  and  as  inevitable  incidents  of  travel. 

The  first  long-distance  voyage  I  ever  made  was 
just  forty  years  ago,  and  I  should  like  people  who 
grumble  at  the  accommodation  provided  in  one  of 
the  huge  modern  liners  to  see  the  arrangements 
thought  good  enough  for  passengers  in  1882.  Our 
ship,  the  Britannia  of  the  Pacific  Steam  Navigation 
Co.,  was  just  over  4,000  tons,  and  we  passengers  con- 
gratulated each  other  loudly  on  our  good  fortune  in 
travelling  in  so  fast  and  splendid  a  vessel.  The  Bri- 
tcm/rda  had  no  deck-houses,  the  uncarpeted,  undeco- 
rated  saloon  was  the  only  place  in  which  to  sit,  and 
its  furniture  consisted  of  long  tables  with  swinging 
racks  over  them,  flanked  by  benches.  This  sumptuous 
apartment  was  illuminated  at  night  by  no  less  than 
forty  candles,  a  source  of  immense  pride  of  the  chief 
steward.  The  sleeping-cabins  for  a  six  weeks'  voyage 
were  smaller  and  less  comfortably  fitted  than  those 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  313 

at  present  provided  for  the  three  hours'  trip  between 
Holyhead  and  Kingstown;  at  night  one  dim  oil-lamp 
glimmered  in  a  ground-glass  case  fixed  between  two 
cabins,  but  only  up  to  10.30  p.m.,  after  which  the  ship 
was  plunged  into  total  darkness.  As  it  was  before 
the  days  of  refrigerators,  the  fore  part  of  the  deck 
was  devoted  to  live  stock.  Pigs  grunted  in  one  pen, 
sheep  bleated  in  another,  whilst  ducks  quacked  and 
turkeys  gobbled  in  coops  on  either  side  of  them.  No 
one  ever  thought  of  grumbling;  on  the  contrary,  we 
all  experienced  that  stupid  sense  of  reflected  pride 
which  passengers  in  a  crack  liner  feel,  for  the  Bri- 
tannia then  enjoyed  a  tremendous  reputation  in  the 
Pacific.  Certainly,  seen  from  the  shore,  the  old  Bri- 
tannia was  a  singularly  pleasing  object  to  the  eye, 
with  her  clipper  bows,  the  graceful  curve  of  her  sheer, 
and  the  beautiful  lines  of  her  low  hull  unbroken  by 
any  deck-houses  or  top -hamper. 

The  traveller  of  to-day  is  more  fortunate;  he  ex- 
pects and  finds  in  a  modern  liner  all  the  comforts 
he  would  enjoy  in  a  first-class  hotel  ashore;  and  finds 
them  too  in  a  lesser  degree  on  railway  journeys. 

The  long  continental  tours  of  my  father  and  mother 
in  the  early  days  of  their  married  life,  were  all  made 
by  road  in  their  own  carriages,  and  as  their  family 
increased  they  took  their  elder  children  with  them  in 
their  wanderings,  so  what  with  children,  nurses  and 
servants,  they  travelled  with  quite  a  retinue. 

I  think  that  my  father  must  have  had  a  sentimental 
attachment  for  the  old  travelling  carriages  which  had 
taken  him  and  his  family  in  safety  over  one-half  of 


314  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

Europe,  for  he  never  parted  with  them,  and  various 
ancient  vehicles  reposed  in  our  coach-houses,  both  in 
England  and  Ireland.  The  workmanship  of  these  old 
carriages  was  so  excellent  that  some  of  them,  re- 
painted and  re-varnished,  were  still  used  for  station- 
work  in  the  country.  There  was  in  particular  one 
venerable  vehicle  known  as  the  "Travelling  Clarence," 
which  remained  in  constant  use  for  more  than  sixty 
years  after  its  birth.  This  carriage  must  have  had 
painful  associations  for  my  elder  brothers  and  sisters, 
for  they  travelled  in  it  on  my  parents'  continental 
tours.  My  mother  always  complimented  their  nurse 
on  the  extraordinarily  tidy  appearance  the  children 
presented  after  they  had  been  twelve  hours  or  more 
on  the  road;  she  little  knew  that  the  nurse  carried  a 
cane,  and  that  any  child  who  fidgeted  ever  so  slightly 
at  once  received  two  smart  cuts  on  the  hand  from  this 
cane,  so  that  their  ultra-neat  appearance  on  arriving 
at  their  destination  was  achieved  rather  painfully. 
This  Clarence  was  an  unusually  comfortable  and  easy- 
rolling  carriage ;  it  hung  on  Cee  springs,  and  was  far 
more  heavily  padded  than  a  modern  vehicle;  it  had 
vast  pockets  arranged  round  its  capacious  grey  in- 
terior, and  curious  little  circular  pillows  for  the  head 
were  suspended  by  cords  from  its  roof.  On  account 
of  its  comfort  it  was  much  used  in  its  old  age  for 
station-work  in  Ireland.  Should  that  old  carriage 
have  had  any  feelings,  I  can  thoroughly  sympathise 
with  them.  Dreaming  away  in  its  coach-house  over  its 
varied  past,  it  must  have  remembered  the  vine-clad 
hills  through  which  it  had  once  rolled  on  the  banks  of 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  315 

the  swift-flowing,  green  Rhone.  It  cannot  have  for- 
gotten the  orange  groves  and  olives  of  sunny  Prov- 
ence overhanging  the  deep-blue  Mediterranean,  the 
plains  of  Northern  Italy  where  the  vines  were  fes- 
tooned from  tree  to  tree,  the  mountains  and  clear 
streams  of  the  Tyrol,  or  the  sleepy  old  Belgian  cities 
melodious  with  the  clash  of  many  bells.  Each  time 
that  it  was  rolled  out  of  its  coach-house  I  imagine  that 
every  fibre  in  its  antique  frame  must  have  vibrated  at 
the  thought  that  now  it  was  to  re-commence  its  wan- 
derings. Conscious  though  the  old  carriage  doubtless 
was  that  its  springs  were  less  lissom  than  they  used 
to  be,  and  that  the  axles  which  formerly  ran  so 
smoothly  now  creaked  alarmingly,  and  sent  sharp 
twinges  quivering  through  its  body,  it  must  have  felt 
confident  that  it  could  still  accomplish  what  it  had 
done  fifty  years  earlier.  I  feel  certain  that  it  started 
full  of  expectations,  as  it  felt  itself  guided  along  the 
familiar  road  which  followed  the  windings  of  the  lake, 
with  the  high  wooded  banks  towering  over  it,  and 
then  along  a  mile  of  highroad  between  dense  planta- 
tions of  spruce  and  Scotch  fir,  until  the  treeless,  stone- 
walled open  country  of  Northern  Ireland  was  reached. 
The  hopes  of  the  old  carriage  must  have  risen  high  as 
the  houses  of  the  little  town  came  into  view ;  first  one- 
storied,  white-washed  and  thatched ;  then  two-storied, 
white-washed  and  slated,  all  alike  lying  under  a  blue 
canopy  of  fragrant  peat  smoke.  The  turn  to  the 
right  was  the  Dublin  road,  the  road  which  ultimately 
led  to  the  sea,  and  to  a  curious  heaving  contrivance 
which  somehow  led  over  angry  waters  to  new  and 


316  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

sunnier  lands.  No;  the  guiding  hands  directed  its 
course  to  the  left,  down  the  brae,  and  along  the  over- 
familiar  road  to  the  station.  The  old  Clarence  must 
have  recognised  with  a  sigh  that  its  roaming  days  were 
definitely  over,  and  that  henceforth,  as  long  as  its 
creaking  axles  and  stiffening  springs  held  together,  it 
could  only  look  forward  to  an  uneventful  life  of  mo- 
notonous routine  in  a  cold,  grey  Northern  land ;  and, 
between  ourselves,  these  feelings  are  not  confined 
to  superannuated  carriages. 

The  old  Clarence  had  one  splendid  final  adventure 
before  it  fell  to  pieces  from  old  age.  At  the  1892 
Election  I  was  the  Unionist  candidate  for  North 
Tyrone.  In  the  North  of  Ireland  political  lines  of 
demarcation  are  drawn  sharply  and  definitely.  Peo- 
ple are  either  on  one  side  or  the  other.  I  was  quite 
aware  that  to  win  the  seat  I  should  have  to  poll  every 
available  vote.  On  the  polling  day  I  spent  the  whole 
day  in  going  round  the  constituency  and  was  conse- 
quently away  from  home.  Late  in  the  afternoon  a 
messenger  arrived  at  Baron's  Court  announcing  that 
an  elderly  farmer,  who  lived  six  miles  off  and  had 
lost  the  use  of  his  legs,  had  been  forgotten.  As,  owing 
to  his  infirmity,  he  was  unable  to  sit  on  a  jaunting- 
car,  it  had  been  arranged  that  a  carriage  should  be 
sent  for  him,  but  this  had  not  been  done.  The  old 
man  was  most  anxious  to  vote,  but  could  only  do  so 
were  a  carriage  sent  for  him,  and  in  less  than  two 
hours  the  poll  would  close.  My  brother  Ernest,  and 
my  sister-in-law,  the  present  Dowager  Duchess  of 
Abercorn,  were  at  home,  and  realising  the  vital  im- 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  317 

portance  of  every  vote,  they  went  at  once  up  to  the 
stables,  only  to  find  that  every  available  man,  horse, 
or  vehicle  was  already  out,  conveying  voters  to  the 
poll.  The  stables  were  deserted.  The  Duchess  recol- 
lected the  comfortable  old  Clarence,  and  she  and  my 
brother  together  rolled  it  out  into  the  yard,  but  a  car- 
riage without  horses  is  rather  useless,  and  there  was 
not  one  single  horse  left  in  the  stalls.  My  brother 
rushed  off  to  see  if  he  could  find  anything  with  four 
legs  capable  of  dragging  a  carriage.  He  was  for- 
tunate enough  to  discover  an  ancient  Clydesdale  cart- 
mare  in  some  adjacent  farm  buildings,  but  she  was 
the  solitary  tenant  of  the  stalls.  He  noticed,  how- 
ever, a  three-year-old  filly  grazing  in  the  park,  and, 
with  the  aid  of  a  sieve  of  oats  and  a  halter,  he  at 
length  succeeded  in  catching  her,  leading  his  two  cap- 
tives triumphantly  back  to  the  stable-yard.  Now 
came  a  fresh  difficulty.  Every  single  set  of  harness 
was  in  use,  and  the  harness-room  was  bare.  The 
Duchess  had  a  sudden  inspiration.  Over  the  fireplace 
in  the  harness-room,  displayed  in  a  glass  show-case, 
was  a  set  of  State  harness  which  my  father  had  had 
specially  made  for  great  occasions  in  Dublin :  gorgeous 
trappings  of  crimson  and  silver,  heavy  with  bullion. 
The  Duchess  hurried  off  for  the  key,  and  with  my 
brother's  help  harnessed  the  astounded  mare  and  the 
filly,  and  then  put  them  to.  The  filly,  unlike  the 
majority  of  the  young  of  her  sex,  had  apparently  no 
love  for  the  pomps  and  vanities  of  the  world,  and 
manifested  her  dislike  of  the  splendours  with  which 
she  was  tricked-out  by  kicking  furiously.  The  un- 


318  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

clipped,  ungroqrned  farm-horses,  bedizened  with  crim- 
son and  silver,  must  have  felt  rather  like  a  navvy  in 
his  working  clothes  who  should  suddenly  find  himself 
decked-out  with  the  blue  velvet  mantle  of  a  Knight  of 
the  Garter  over  his  corduroys.  The  Duchess  pro- 
posed fetching  the  old  farmer  herself,  so  she  climbed 
to  the  box-seat  and  gathered  the  reins  into  her  hands, 
but  on  being  reminded  by  my  brother  that  time  was 
running  short,  and  that  the  cart-horses  would  require 
a  good  deal  of  persuasion  before  they  could  be  induced 
to  accelerate  their  customary  sober  walk,  she  relin- 
quished her  place  to  him.  Off  they  went,  the  filly  still 
kicking  frantically,  the  old  Clydesdale  mare,  glittering 
with  crimson  and  silver,  uncertain  as  to  whether  she 
was  dragging  a  plough  or  hauling  the  King  in  his 
State  coach  to  the  Opening  of  Parliament  at  West- 
minster. Once  on  the  level  the  indignant  animals 
felt  themselves  lashed  into  an  unaccustomed  gallop; 
they  lumbered  along  at  a  clumsy  canter,  shaking  the 
solid  ground  as  they  pounded  it  with  their  heavy  feet, 
the  ancient  Clarence,  enchanted  at  this  last  rollicking 
adventure,  swaying  and  rolling  behind  them  like  a 
boat  in  a  heavy  sea.  This  extraordinary-looking 
turn-out  continued  its  headlong  course  over  bog-roads 
and  through  rough  country  lanes,  to  the  astonishment 
of  the  inhabitants,  till  the  lame  farmer's  house  was 
reached.  He  was  carefully  lifted  into  the  carriage, 
conveyed  to  the  polling-place,  and  recorded  his  vote 
at  7.54  p.m.,  with  just  six  minutes  to  spare  before  the 
poll  closed.  As  it  turned  out  I  won  the  seat  by  fifty- 
six  votes,  so  this  rapid  journey  was  really  superfluous, 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  319 

but  we  all  thought  that  it  would  be  a  much  closer 
thing. 

In  the  North  of  Ireland  where  majorities,  one  way 
or  the  other,  are  often  very  narrow,  electioneering 
has  been  raised  almost  to  a  fine  art.  A  nephew  of 
mine  was  the  Unionist  candidate  for  a  certain  city  in 
the  North  of  Ireland  during  the  1911  election.  Here 
again  it  was  certain  that  his  majority  could  only  be 
a  very  small  one,  and  as  is  the  custom  in  Ulster  every 
individual  vote  was  carefully  attended  to.  One  man, 
though  a  nominal  supporter,  was  notoriously  very 
shaky  in  his  allegiance.  He  was  a  railway  guard  and 
left  the  city  daily  on  the  7.30  a.m.  train,  before  the 
poll  would  open,  returning  by  the  fast  train  from 
Dublin  due  at  7.40  p.m.  He  would  thus  on  the  polling 
day  have  had  ample  time  in  which  to  record  his  vote. 
The  change  in  his  political  views  was  so  well  known 
that  my  nephew's  Election  Committee  had  written  off 
his  vote  as  a  hostile  one,  but  they  had  reckoned  with- 
out the  railway  signalman.  This  signalman  was  a 
most  ardent  political  partisan  and  a  strong  adherent 
of  my  nephew's,  and  he  was  determined  to  leave  noth- 
ing to  chance.  Knowing  perfectly  how  the  land  lay, 
he  was  resolved  to  give  the  dubious  guard  no  oppor- 
tunity of  recording  a  possibly  hostile  vote,  so,  on  his 
own  initiative,  he  put  his  signals  against  the  Dublin 
train  and  kept  her  waiting  for  twenty-two  minutes', 
to  the  bewilderment  of  the  passengers,  until  the  strik- 
ing of  the  clocks  announced  the  closing  of  the  poll. 
Then  he  released  her,  and  the  train  rolled  into  the 
terminus  at  8.5  p.m.,  so  I  fear  that  the  guard  was  un- 


320  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

able  to  record  his  vote,  hostile  or  otherwise.  I  think 
that  this  is  an  example  of  finesse  in  electioneering 
which  would  never  have  occurred  to  an  Englishman. 
My  nephew  won  the  seat  by  over  fifty  votes. 

I  have  again  exceeded  the  space  allotted  to  me,  and 
am  reminded  by  a  ruthless  publisher  of  the  present 
high  cost  of  production. 

We  have  strayed  together  through  many  lands,  and 
should  the  pictures  of  these  be  dull  or  incomplete,  I 
can  but  tender  my  apologies.  I  am  quite  conscious, 
too,  that  I  have  taken  full  advantage  of  the  privilege 
which  I  claimed  in  the  first  chapter,  and  that  I  have 
at  times  wandered  wide  from  the  track  which  I  was 
following.  I  must  plead  in  extenuation  that  the 
interminable  straight  roads  of  France  seem  to  me  less 
interesting  than  the  winding  country  lanes  of  Eng- 
land, Indeed,  I  am  unable  to  conceive  of  any  one 
walking  for  pleasure  along  the  endless  vistas  of  the 
French  poplar-bordered  highways,  where  every  ob- 
jective is  clearly  visible  for  miles  ahead;  it  is  the  Eng- 
lish meandering  by-roads,  with  their  twists  and  turns, 
their  unexpected  and  intimate  glimpses  into  rural  life, 
their  variety  and  surprises,  which  tempt  the  pedes- 
trian on  and  on.  We  may  accept  Euclid's  dictum  that 
a  straight  line  is  the  shortest  road  between  two  points ; 
a  wandering  line,  if  longer,  is  surely  as  a  rule  the  more 
interesting. 

A  Scottish  clerical  friend  of  mine,  the  minister  of 
a  large  parish  in  the  South  of  Scotland,  told  me  that 
there  were  just  two  categories  of  people  in  the  world, 
"decent  bodies"  and  the  reverse,  and  that  the  result 


HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE  321 

of  his  seventy  years'  experience  of  this  world  was  that 
the  "decent  bodies"  largely  predominated. 

Although  I  am  unable  to  claim  quite  as  many 
years  as  my  friend  the  old  minister,  my  experience 
coincides  with  his,  the  "decent  bodies"  are  in  a  great 
majority.  I  have  met  them  everywhere  amongst  all 
classes,  and  in  every  part  of  the  world,  and  their 
skins  are  not  always  white. 

They  may  not  be  conspicuously  to  the  fore,  for  the 
"decent  bodies"  are  not  given  to  self-advertisement. 
They  have  no  love  for  the  limelight,  and  would  be 
distinctly  annoyed  should  their  advent  be  heralded 
with  a  flourish  of  trumpets.  In  the  garden-borders 
the  mignonette  is  a  very  inconspicuous  little  plant, 
and  passes  almost  unnoticed  beside  the  flaunting 
gaudiness  of  the  dahlia  or  the  showy  spikes  of  the 
hollyhock,  yet  it  is  from  that  modest,  low-growing, 
grey-green  flower  that  comes  the  sweetness  that  per- 
fumes the  whole  air,  for  the  most  optimistic  person 
would  hardly  expect  fragrance  from  dahlias  or  holly- 
hocks. They  have  their  uses ;  they  are  showy,  decora- 
tive and  aspiring,  but  they  do  not  scent  the  garden. 

Between  1914  and  1918  I,  in  common  with  most 
people,  came  across  countless  hundreds  of  "decent 
bodies,"  many  of  them  wearing  V.A.D.  nurse's  uni- 
forms. These  little  women  did  not  put  on  their  nurse's 
uniform  merely  to  pose  before  a  camera  with  elab- 
orately made-up  eyes  and  a  carefully  studied  sympa- 
thetic expression,  to  return  to  ordinary  fashionable 
attire  at  once  afterwards.  They  scrubbed  floors,  and 
carried  heavy  weights,  and  worked  till  they  nearly 


322  HERE,  THERE  AND  EVERYWHERE 

dropped,  week  after  week,  month  after  month,  and 
year  after  year,  but  they  were  never  too  tired  to 
whisper  an  encouraging  word,  or  render  some  small 
service  to  a  suffering  lad.  I  wonder  how  many  thou- 
sands of  these  lads  owe  their  lives  to  those  quiet,  un- 
assuming, patient  little  "decent  bodies"  in  blue  linen, 
and  to  the  element  of  human  sympathy  which  they 
supplied.  And  what  of  the  occupants  of  the  hospital 
beds  themselves?  We  all  know  the  splendid  record  of 
sufferings  patiently  borne,  of  indomitable  courage 
and  cheerfulness,  and  of  countless  little  acts  of 
thoughtf illness  and  consideration  for  others  in  a  worse 
plight  even  than  themselves.  Who,  after  having  had 
that  experience,  can  falter  in  their  belief  that  the 
"decent  bodies"  are  in  a  majority? 

I  know  many  people  looking  forward  to  the  future 
with  gloom  and  apprehension.  I  do  not  share  their 
views.  For  the  moment  the  more  blatant  elements  in 
the  community  are  unquestionably  monopolising  the 
stage  and  focussing  attention  on  themselves,  but  I 
know  that  behind  them  are  the  vast  unseen  armies  of 
the  "decent  bodies,"  who  will  assert  themselves  when 
the  time  comes. 

These  "decent  bodies"  are  not  the  exclusive  product 
of  one  country,  of  one  class,  or  of  one  sex.  They 
are  to  be  found  "Here,  There,  and  Everywhere." 


INDEX 


INDEX 


Abercorn,  Dowager  Duchess  of, 
316 

A  desolate  frontier  telegraph- 
office,  43 

Algeciras  Conference,  the,  148 

Amateur  mahouts  and  know- 
ing elephants,  38 

Americans  and  the  sanitation 
of  the  Panama  Canal  Zone, 
164, 

Anenkoff,  General,  71 

Anreith,  Anton,  Dutch  sculp- 
tor, 265 

An  unforgettable  sunrise,  41 

Argentine  estancia,  life  on  an, 
238 

Argentine  Republic,  venomous 
reptiles  of,  243-244;  break- 
ing-in  horses  in,  244-247; 
difficulties  of  railway  con- 
struction in,  251-254 

Assam,  a  big-game  shoot  in,  22 

A  trick  that  failed,  54-55 

Australian  drivers,  recklessness 
of,  23 


Balboa,  Vasco  Nufiez  de,  dis- 
coverer of  the  Pacific,  l6l, 
165;  "annexes"  "La  Pele- 
grina"  pearl,  165 

Baden-Powell,  General,  his 
welcome  to  Trinidad,  226- 
227 


Baker,     Mr.     Herbert,    archi- 
tect of  Rhodes  Memorial  at 
Devil's  Peak,  Capetown,  271 
Bancroft,     Sir     Squire,     294- 

295 

Barbados,  106;  "dignity  balls" 
at,    108;    in    quarantine    at, 
106;   Father  Labat,  French 
missionary  at,  109;  a  potent 
cocktail,  110 
Barnard,  Colonel,  55-57 
"Bartimaeus,"    author    of    Un- 
reality, and  Bermuda,  210- 
213 
Batavia,   an   unhealthy    eanal- 

intersected  town,  259 
Bayol,  M.,  75-76 
Beaconsfield,  Lord,  310 
Bear-shooting  in  Russia,  255 
Beauharnais,  Hortense  de,  wife 
of  Louis,  King  of  Holland, 
222 

Beauharnais,  Vicomte  de,  222 
Benbow,  Admiral,  death  of  at 

Port  Royal,  105 
Benckendorff,Count,  last   Rus- 
sian Ambassador  to  England, 
310 

Bermuda,  Sir  John  Somers 
wrecked  on,  1609,  196;  an 
economic  puzzle,  196;  fer- 
tility of,  196;  climatal  con- 
ditions of,  198;  coral  reefs 
in,  198-199;  coral-reef  fish- 
ing in,  199;  sea-gardens  in, 
199;  its  Parliament,  204; 
old  furniture  and  silver  in, 


326 


326 


INDEX 


207;  red  and  blue  birds  of, 
209;  "Bartimaeus"  on,  210; 
mosquitoes  in,  212;  officers' 
wives  in,  213-214;  Bishop 
of,  on  climate,  216;  strategic 
importance  of,  217;  loyalty 
of  natives  of,  218;  good 
record  of  in  the  Great  War, 
219 

"Bermuda  Company,"  the,  197 

"Bermudians,  the  Song  of 
the,"  219 

Bird  life  in  the  jungle,  35- 
36 

Birds  of  Bermuda,  beautiful, 
209 

Biter  bit,  the,  50,  54 

Bluebeard  chamber,  a,  77-78 

Bog  Walk,  Jamaica,  a  beauti- 
ful glen,  137-138,  182 

Bonaparte,  Joseph,  166 

Boscawen,  Admiral,  79 

Botha,  Mrs.,  270;  her  kindness 
to  a  sick  youth,  275 

Botha,  General,  at  Groote 
Schuur,  270 

Boxing  match,  a  patrician,  49 

Boy's  fight  with  a  shark,  a, 
158-159 

Brazil,  the  Petropolis  forest, 
227;  fugitive  Presidents  of, 
229;  Cipriano  Castro,  Presi- 
dent of,  229-230;  Juan 
Rosas,  dictator-tyrant  of, 
230 

Bridgetown,  Barbados,  109- 
110;  Codrington  College  at, 
111 

Brookfield,  Mr.  Charles,  301 

Brown's  Town,  Jamaica,  143; 
its  spacious  church,  145 

Buccleuch,  the  late  Duchesa 
of,  and  the  Archbishop,  177- 
178 

Buddhist  theological  library,  a 
fine,  64 


Buenos  Ayres,  the  Plaza  Eiis- 
kara  at,  234-235;  a  feature- 
less plain,  239;  its  present 
aspect,  250 

Buxton,  Ronald,   189-190 


Cabot,  John,  discoverer  of 
Newfoundland,  196 

Calcutta,  Lord  Kitchener's 
camouflaged  garden  at,  43- 
44;  Lord  Minto  holds  in- 
vestiture at,  44 

Cambon,  M.  Paul,  147 

Camoens,  Portuguese  poet,  at 
Macao,  86 

Canada  ceded  to  Britain,  80 

Canterbury,  Archbishop  of,  and 
the  late  Duchess  of  Buc- 
cleuch, 177-178 

Canton,  88;  its  narrow  streets, 
90-91 ;  its  appalling  smells, 
91;  local  devils  of,  92; 
"City  of  the  Dead"  in,  97- 
98 

Canton  River,  the,  87 

Cape  Colony,  Simon  van  der 
Stel,  Governor  of,  262; 
vine  introduced  by  Van 
Riebeck,  262;  Dutch  pio- 
neers and,  262 ;  works  of  art 
at,  264 

Capetown,  258;  its  substantial 
buildings,  259;  giant  oaks  of, 
259 

Cartagena  de  Indias,  162 

Castro,  Cipriano,  Brazil's 
bloodthirsty  Pre«ident,  229- 
230 

Cecil,  Mr.  Arthur,  a  capable 
actor,  293-296 

Ceylon,  58;  "Devil  Dancers" 
in,  59;  its  enterprising 
planters,  66 


INDEX 


327 


Changeable  types  of  natives  on 
hills  and  plains,  41 

Charles  V.,  165-166 

Chinese  devils  and  precautions 
against,  94 

Chinese  immune  from  filth  dis- 
eases, 92 

Chinese  ingenuity,  94;  dislike 
of  foreigners,  95-96 

Cholera  train,  a,  20 

"Chu  Chin  Chow"  church  Ser- 
vice, a,  290-291 

"City  of  the  Dead,"  the,  Can- 
ton, 97-98 

Classical  education,  advantages 
of  a,  309 

Clifford,  Sir  Hugh,  59,  61 

Clinch,  Robert,  a  heroic  mid- 
shipman, and  his  fight  with 
a  shark,  158-159 

Clive,  Lord,  79 

Codrington  College,  Bridge- 
town, Barbados,  111 

Colombo,  the  Clapham  Junc- 
tion of  the  East,  68 

Colon,  162;  its  harbour  an  ex- 
cellent tarpon  fishing-ground, 
162-163,  169 

Columbus,  Christopher,  143; 
founds  Portobello,  161 

"Command  Night"  in  Dublin, 
a,  52 

Complicated  imperial  relation- 
ships, 222 

Cooch  Behar  and  Calcutta,  a 
diversified  500-mile  journey 
between,  18 

Cooch  Behar,  Maharanee  of, 
a  graceful  and  delightful 
hostess,  32,  46,  47 
Cooch  Behar,  Maharajah  of, 
invitation  from  to  shooting- 
party,  17,  20;  his  incongru- 
ous palace,  21 ;  his  army  of 
attendants,  25 


Craskell,  Mr.,  builder  of  King's 

House,  Spanish  Town,  136 
Crossing  the  Line,  278 


Darien,  William  Patterson  and 
the  iU-fated  Scottish  settle- 
ment at,  162 

Darjeeling,  a  cool  hill-station, 
40;  a  transplanted  London 
suburb,  42 

Darj  eel  ing-Himalayan  Rail- 
way, a  Lilliputian  concern, 
41 

"Decent  bodies"  and  the  re- 
verse, 320-322 

De  Grasse,  Count,  80 

Des  Etangs,  M.,  60,  6l,  62,  70, 
82 

"Devil  Dancers"  in  Ceylon,  59 

Devil's  Peak,  Rhodes  Memorial 
at,  271 

De  Vogue,  Vicomtc  Eugene 
Melchior,  71 

Diaz,  Porfirio,  iron  rule  of,  in 
Mexico,  232 

Dowse,  Mr.  Serjeant,  last  of 
the  Irish  "Barons,"  132 

Ducks'  Marathon  race,  a,  87-88 

Dudley,  Lady,  in  Kingston 
earthquake,  174 

Dufferin,  Lord,  his  Letters 
from  High  latitudes,  quoted, 
310^311 

Dufferin,  Helen,  Lady,  grand- 
daughter of  Sheridan,  257 

Dupleix,  78-79;  shabby  treat- 
ment of,  by  France,  79-80 

Durian,  the,  an  unsavoury 
Malay  fruit,  85 

Dutch  pioneers  and  Cape 
Colony,  thoroHghneas  of, 
262-26* 


328 


INDEX 


"Educational  quartettes,"  an 
instructive  game,  1 92- 193 

Edwards,  Bryan,  History  of 
the  British  West  Indies, 
quoted,  115 

Electioneering  poster,  an  orig- 
inal, 133 

Emperor  William  at  Tangier, 
147 

Empress  Eugenie,  £23 

Enciso,  Martin  de,  161 

Englishman's  ignorance  about 
geography,  the,  191 

Erskine,  Sir  David,  49 


Ferdinand  V.   of  Spain,   165; 

presented  with  the  "La  Pele- 

grina"  pearl,  165 
Filon,  M.,  on  the  Bonapartes, 

223 
Foersch,    Dr.,    and    the    upas 

tree,  67 
Fort  Augusta,  a  charnel-house, 

182 
Francia,     Jos6,     a    beneficent 

despot,  232 
French  Fleet,  the,  visit  of,  to 

Jamaica,   147 


Galdy,  Mr.  Lewis,  and  bis 
miraculous  escape,  181 

Geography,  ignorance  of  Eng- 
lishmen about,  191;  a  novel 
method  of  teaching,  192 

Gilbert,  James  Stanley,  author 
of  Panama  Patchwork,  170 

Goethals,  Colonel,  and  the  sani- 
tation of  the  Panama  Canal 
Zone,  164 


Gortschakoff,  Prince,  810 
"Grill-room     Club,"     the,     a 
unique    establishment,    293 ; 
celebrities  of,  293 
Groote     Schuur,     Rondebosch, 
official    residence    of    South 
African  Premiers,  26 1 ;  treas- 
ures of,  269;  General  Botha 
at,  270;  tea  drinking  at,  271 

H 

Haiti,  eighteenth  century 
troubles  in,  120;  Toussaint 
1'Ouverture  restores  order  in, 
120 

Hamilton,  Lord  Claud,  132; 
special  constable  during 
Great  War,  289 

Hamilton,  Lord  Ernest,  and 
the  Tyrone  1902  Parlia- 
mentary election,  Sl6 

Hamilton,  Lord  George,   133 

Harrow  College,  141-142;  the 
passing  bell  at,  284-285 

Higginson,  Sir  George,  51 

Hong-Kong,  the  Crewe  of  the 
East,  84 

Houghton,  Lord,  neat  answer 
of,  297 

Howells,  Mr.  William  Dean, 
206-207 

Huguenots,  French  refugees, 
their  work  in  South  Africa, 
264 


Illusion  shattered,  an,  305 

Indian  jugglers,  55 

Indian     natives,     masters     of 

camouflage,  43,  45 
Indian  orchestra,  an  efficient, 

ao 

mj§ 

Irishman    and    the    Peruvian, 

the,  168 


INDEX 


329 


Jamaica,  enervating  climate 
of,  117;  arrival  at  Kingston 
Harbour,  123;  beauty  of, 
125;  the  Palisadoes,  126; 
Rio  Cobre  swamps,  126; 
no  trace  of  Spain  in,  128; 
Admiral  Penn  and  General 
Venables  at,  128;  Cromwell 
and,  128;  architecture  in, 
129;  an  election  in  Kingston, 
181;  St.  Thomas-in-the-Vale, 
138;  native  orchid*  of,  138; 
visit  of  French  Fleet  to,  14-7 

Jamaica  Government  Railway, 
the,  151 

Jenner,  Sir  William,  804 


Kandy,  a  snake-infested  spot, 
59;  "Temple  of  the  Tooth" 
at,  61-62 

Kazan  Madonna,  the,  72-73 

Kemp,  Norman,  187-190 

Kennedy,  Sir  Robert,  bear- 
shooting  in  Russia,  255 

Kinchin  j  anga  Mountain,  40 ; 
unscalable,  42 

Kingsley,  Charles,  and  Trini- 
dad, 227 

Kingston,  Jamaica,  131,  134 
destroyed     by     earthquake, 
162 ;  a  heap  of  ruins,  171; 
King's  House  at,  171 

Kitchener,  Lord,  43 ;  his  camou- 
flaged Calcutta  garden,  48- 
44 


Labat,  Father,  French  mission- 
ary, on  wealth  of  Barbados, 
109*  HI 


La  Bourdonnais,  79 
Lansdowne,  Lady,  46 
Lansdowne,  Lord,  81,  147 
"La     Pelegrina,"     the     great 

pearl,  story  of,  165-168 
Lathom,  Lady,  at  Jamaica,  150 
Latin,    modern    pronunciation 

of,  309;  averts  possible  war, 

310 
Le  Clerc,  General,  his  ill-fated 

expedition  in  Haiti,  120-121 
Le     Clerc,     Mme.      (Princeas 

Pauline       Borghese),       her 

subtlety,   121 
Lesseps,    Ferdinand    de,    and 

the  Panama  Canal,  164 
Lesser  Antilles,  the,  220 
Louis  XV.,  80 

Louis,  King  of  Holland,  282 
L'Ouverture,     Toussaint,    and 

Haiti,  120 
Louw,    Mr.,   a   courtly    Dutch 

farmer,  266 
Lyon,  Patrick,  and  a  Brazilian 

forest,    227-228,    288,    S40, 

241,  248 

If 

Macao,    gambling    houses    at, 

85;  Camoens  at,  86 
"Mad  hatter,"  a,  53 
Magee,    Archbishop,    and   the 

navvy,  146 

Maintenon,  Madame  de,  923 
Malarial     gastritis,       Nature's 

remedy  for,  157 
Malay  Peninsula,  the,  88 
"Malignants,"   Irish,  imported 

by  Cromwell  to  Montscrrat, 

West  Indies,  224 
Malleson,   G.    B.,   his   fcf«    of 

Dupleix,  80 

Mandeville,  Jamaica,  146 
Mango  trick,  the,  a  poor  per- 
formance, 55 


330 


INDEX 


Mangrove  swamps,  disease- 
breeding,  153;  their  malefi- 
cent effect  on  the  author, 
155;  Nature's  lightning  cure, 
156 

Mark  Twain,  206 

Martin,  Mr.,  and  the  Peruvian, 
168 

Martinique,  handsome  and 
tasteful  coloured  women  of, 
223-224 

Meux,  Admiral  Sir  Hepworth, 
Commander-in-Chief  in  the 
Pacific,  87 

Minto,  Lord,  44;  holds  an 
investiture  at  Calcutta,  44- 
45 

Monte  Diavolo,  Jamaica,  139, 
182 

Mont  Pelee,  eruption  of,  at 
St.  Pierre,  Martinique,  in 
1902,  173 

Montserrat,  negroes  of,  with 
Irish  brogues,  224 

Muizenberg,  surf-bathing  at, 
267 

Munro,  Dr.,  a  great  Oriental 
scholar,  82 


N 


Napoleon  III.,  166,  222 

Napoleon,  Joseph,  166 

Napoleon,  Prince  Louis,  166 

Native  dinner,  a,  47-48 

Navvy,  the,  and  Archbishop 
Magee,  146 

Negro  hysteria  in  the  Kingston 
earthquake,  177 

Nelson,  Lord,  register  of  mar- 
riage of,  at  Nevis,  West 
Indies,  225 

Ifevis,  West  Indies,  Nelson 
married  at,  225;  health  re- 
sort of  whites,  225 


Newfoundland  discovered  by- 
John  Cabot,  1497,  196; 
occupied  by  England,  1583, 
196 

Nicholas  II.,  an  ill-starred 
monarch,  80-81 

Nisbet,  Frances,  wife  of  Nel- 
son, 225 

Noailles,  Comte  de,  258 

Normandy  at  the  outbreak  of 
war,  282;  mobilisation  in, 
283;  the  tocsin  in,  284 

North  of  Ireland  electioneer- 
ing, a  fine  art,  319 

Norton,  Mrs.,  257 

Nugent,  Lady,  105;  her  diary, 
"Jamaica  in  1801,"  113-114; 
on  gormandising,  117-118; 
an  aldermanic  dinner,  118; 
her  presents  from  Mme.  Le 
Clerc,  121 

Nugent,  Sir  George,  Governor 
of  Jamaica,  113,  121,  122; 
Commander  -  in  -  Chief  in 
Bengal,  123 


Old    Ferry    Inn,    Kingston,    a 

fever  trap,  135 
Oliphant,  General,  62 


Pagerie,     Josephine,     de     la, 

Napoleon  I.'s  first  wife,  222, 

223 

Palisadoes,  the,   Jamaica,   126 
Palotta,  Miss  Grace,  a  Gaiety 

Theatre  singer,  82 
Panama,  165 
Panama  Canal  Zone,  Americans 

and   the   sanitation   of   the, 

164 


INDEX 


331 


Patterson,  William,  and  the 
settlement  of  Darien,  162 

Pearl  Islands,  165 

Pellegrini,  M.,  "Ape"  of  Van- 
ity Fair,  298 

Penn,  Admiral,  at  Jamaica, 
128 

Peradeniya  Botanical  Gardens, 
66 

Philip  II.  of  Spain,  166 

Pidgin  English,  84 

Pizarro,  165 

Plassy,  79 

Pluck  of  an  apprentice,  273- 
281 

Pondicherry,  76 

Port  Royal,  180-182 

Q 

Quarantine  at  Barbados,  108 
Queen  Mary  Tudor,  166 


Rhodes    Memorial    at   Deril's 

Peak,  271 
Rhodes,  Cecil,  261 
Rondebosch,      Cecil      Rhodes' 

house,  Groote  Schuur,  official 

home  of  S.A.   Premiers,  at, 

261 ;  parish  church  of,  261; 

treasures  at,  261 
Riding  in  comfort,  and  other- 
wise, 26 
Rio  Cobre,  Jamaica,  126,  128, 

134 
Rodney,  Lord,   80;  monument 

to,  at  Spanish  Town,  136 
"Rope-trick,"  the,  55-57 
Rosas,    Juan,    Dictator-Tyrant 

of  Argentine  Republic,  230; 

betrayal  of,  232;  death  of, 

in  England,  232 
Russia,     ball    at    the    Winter 

Palace,  Petrograd,  256;  cost 

of,  256 


S 


"Sacred  Tooth"  of  Buddha,  61 ; 

exposition  of,  62-63 

St.  Pierre,  Martinique,  erup- 
tion of  Mont  Pelee  at,  in 
1902,  173;  desolation  of,  222 

Salisbury,  Lord,  310 

Sha-mien,  an  artificial  island, 
89 

Silliguri,  40 

Simpson,  Canon  of  Fittleworth, 
an  expert  on  bells,  £86 

Smartt,  Sir  Thomas,  267 

Somers,  Sir  George,  wrecked 
on  Bermudas  in  1609,  196 

Somerset,  the  Duchess  of,  257 

South  Africa,  aridity  of,  260 

"Spanish  Main,"  a  misappre- 
hension as  to  the  term,  160; 
a  detestable  spot,  161 

Spanish  Town,  Jamaica,  135; 
Lord  Rodney's  monument  at, 
136;  the  Cathedral,  186;  an 
arrogant  inscription  in,  186 

Special  constable,  author's  ex- 
periences as  a,  288 

Streatfeild,  General  Sir  Henry, 
18,  38;  his  unique  train  ex- 
perience, 19 

"Sunday"  books  of  the  "six- 
ties," 143 

Swettenham,  Lady,  visits 
French  Fleet  at  Jamaica, 
150,  156;  and  the  1907 
Kingston  earthquake,  173 

Swettenham,  Sir  Alexander, 
Governor  of  Jamaica,  150, 
156;  and  the  1907  Kingston 
earthquake,  173 


Table  Bay,  258 

Table  Mountain,  258,  260 


332 


INDEX 


"Temple    of    the    Tooth"    at 

Kandy,  61-62 
Tenting  in  comfort,  23-24 
Theatre,  the  appeal  of,  303 
"The      Gondoliers"      in      the 

jungle,  SI 

The  Lusiads,  by  Caraoens,  writ- 
ten when  in  exile  at  Macao, 

86 
Thibault,  M.,  French  architect, 

265 

Tiger  shooting,  28 
Time's  changes,  309 
Tocsin,  the,  in  Normandy,  284 
Tolly  Gunge,  a  sacred  stream, 

20;  its  maleficent  effects,  20 
Trade  winds,  the,  170 
Travel,  an  ideal  form  of,  IS 
Travelling    in    the    "sixties," 

and  now,  311 
Tree,  Sir  Herbert  Beerbohm, 

"leg-pulling"    art   of,    298- 

301 
Tyrone  Parliamentary  election, 

1902,  author  and,  316 


U 


Upas  tree,  the,  67 ;  Dr.  Foersch 

on,  67 
Urquiza,  General,  betrayer  of 

Juan  Rosas,  231 


V.A.D.  nurses,  "decent  bodies" 

in  blue  linen,  322 
Vallombrosa,  the  Due  de,  in  a 

lively  boxing  match,  49-50; 

turns  the  tables  on  author's 

father,  50 
Vampire     bat     of     Trinidad, 

venomous,  226 


Van  der  Byl,  Mrs.,  263 

Van  der  Stel,  Simon,  Governor 

of  Cape  Colony,   262,   264, 

266 
Van      Riebeck,      Jan,     Dutch 

pioneer,  258;  vine  introduced 

into  Cape  by,  262 
Variegated  fish,  199 
Venables,  General,  at  Jamaica, 

128 
Vikrama  Bahu  and  the  "sacred 

tooth"  of  Buddha,  61 
Volga  oil-burning  steamers,  74 


W 

"Walking-onM  at  Drury  Lane, 

302 

Ward,  Sir  Leslie,  "Spy"  of 
Vanity  Fair,  298 

Wellington,  the  Duke  of,  at  the 
Battle  of  Vittoria,  166 

West  Indies,  glamour  of,  102; 
Captain  Marryat  and  Mi- 
chael Scott  on,  102;  former 
deadly  climate  of,  103;  Lady 
Nugent  and,  105;  training- 
ground  for  British  Navy, 
105;  Admiral  Benbow  and, 
105;  Rodney  and,  105; 
Bryan  Edwards  on,  115; 
wealth  of,  115;  gormandis- 
ing, 117;  an  aldermanic 
dinner,  118;  demerits  of, 
220 

William  IV.,  Lord  Nelson's 
"best  man,"  225 

Wilson,  Mr.  Woodrow,  207 

Winter  Palace,  Petrograd,  ball 
at,  256;  cost  of,  256 

Winterton,  Lady,  52-55 

Wodehouse,  Lady,  203 

Wolfe,  General,  80 


e 

H3 


THE  LIBP  4RY 


